La Petite Mort
by Little Storm
Summary: A prostitute, a priest, and a story of salvation.
1. Introduction

**This story is not about historical accuracy, nor France at the turn of the century. It is not about religion, or truth. If I make a mistake, ignore it. Just use your imagination. Fiction is fiction, this is not a history text book, and it's certainly not the Bible.**

**This fiction is dedicated 100% to my baby doll Michelle, who has been my bulletproof sweetheart for one month today. What a baby step 30 days seems, on the rollercoaster of our violence romance. Here's to our first month kitten, I love you.**

...

They say Paris is the city of love.

Basked in the evening glow of moonlight and candlesticks, Paris was alive with romanticism. It was impossible to escape the exuberant charm of the city, or the soft caress of the summer breeze that blew throughout cobbled streets. And if it were true about what _they _said, then it would also be true that the red light district was the very core of _la ville de l'amour_.

Prostitution was a thriving business of young, beautiful women that would love you wholely, if you were willing to pay. Cinched and pinched figures of the night, breathing fantasies that waited on the streets, ready to snatch up any desperate, foolish man. Like sirens of the back streets, hungry for your heart and a cheap fuck in a dirty hotel. The legality of prostitution had night-walkers out in the public eye, littering the streets with their beautifully disgusting bodies. Hot flesh on the cold streets of France, that were carefully side-stepped by upper-class modests, who would avert their gaze away from spread, milky thighs curtained by hitched skirts and garter belts.

But not all nobles were so refined, and others would slip into darks alleys in the dead of the night, their top hats bowed and collars raised much like the dark-haired stranger that had just slipped from a horse-drawn carriage and out into the midnight. Fine shoes found purchase on putrid slicked cobblestone, and the tall nobleman disappeared into a thin alleyway. Shadows of linen hung stories above cast ghost-like shadows on the wet street, and the man pulled his coat closer to his body. It was a full moon, and the successful business man risked having his cover blown.

Betwixt dilapidated buildings was a ghetto, similar to the many others that disgraced the beautiful city. Structures built so high they seemed to curl unnaturally, crooked and decaying, held together by strung washing and grease. It was a maze of dank and dirty households, and thin passageways leading to darker worlds. There was one narrow alley that many knowledgeable gentleman called the _antre du démon_, the name given due to one creature of the night who took residency there.

A beautiful hand hung limp from a window sill, two floors from the ground, a cigarette curled between thin fingers. The stick was tapped gingerly until ash fell like snow onto the streets below. From his perch Ciel could see the sharp peak of the Eiffel tower, the lattice structure glowing gorgeously from the street lamps dotting the labyrinth of streets. Slate hair whipped pleasantly around Ciel's cheeks as he took a drag from his cigarette, and he cast his eyes down to the streets below him. A figure in a full coat was crossing the way towards his apartment building so he leaned a little further out of his window. Exhaling the smoke from his lung Ciel grinned charmingly as the man below took notice of him.

"Hey baby," he purred, tucking a strand of overgrown grey hair behind his studded ear. The man gave a small smile and stood directly beneath the boy, looking up and removing his hat. Ciel gave a flirtatious toss of his fingers, smothering his cigarette against the window sill. The man below was handsome. He had dark hair and a sharp face, with piercing eyes that were slitted into a serious expression. He moved away from the window and out of his one-room apartment and tredded down the narrow staircase to let the man inside.

The front door opened and the business man regarded the slim figure before him. Ciel was shirtless, his chest still balancing on the cusp of youth and adulthood. Pants hung loose around his waist, done up with a cheap belt, and his boots weren't laced, the thin tendrils of cord sitting limply on the ground. The French boy gave a knowing smirk, reaching out to tug on the tie bound stiffly around the man's neck.

"Can I 'elp you?" He asked, making sure to lean in close. The man before Ciel gave a confident nod and brushed past the boy, heading up the rickety staircase. Ciel raised an eyebrow in surprise, closing the door and bolting the lock. As the taller male ascended the staircase he tilted his head, talking down to Ciel in an authoritive voice.

"You were recommended by a close friend of mine, do not disappoint me," he warned, his rich accent obvious immediately. Ciel pushed his hair back off his face and followed the man upstairs, his heart thudding a little.

"I fucking love Englishmen" he sighed, smiling to himself as he joined the man inside of his apartment. Ciel's bedroom was small, a simple room furnished with only few things, and an even smaller bathroom on the opposite wall. It was still one of the nicer places affordable with Ciel's salary. Seemingly pleased with his surroundings, the bigger male shrugged off his overcoat, placing it and his hat on the coat stand by the door way. When he finished he turned his attention back to Ciel, who stood with an alluring smirk plastered all over his lips.

"You got name?" He asked, stepping closer to the gentleman until their bodies were touching. Burgundy eyes flickered over the boy's naked chest, and the richer man's lips quirked up.

"Vincent," he said simply, placing his large hand flat against Ciel's body, slipping it into his pants. Ciel gave a surprised gasp but a pleased grumble and leaned into the man, clutching his shirt.

"You sure don't mess around," he said, curling his back as he felt a gloved finger bypass his cock completely and prod against his ass. With a firm grip he was pushed down onto the feather mattress below him, eliciting a sharp gasp. Vincent crawled on top of him, his large hand holding him up while the other groped at Ciel's twitching hole. Curious silk fingers pushed dryly at the puckered mouth and the experienced boy gasped again.

Ciel's pants were tugged down around his knees, and then his knees were pressed up to his chest, one of his boots slipped to the floor with a loud thud and the other dangled unlaced from his foot. Resting his head back against the pillows Ciel fumbled for a cigarette that sat on a small table by the bed. His nimble fingers wrapped around it just as a hard hand slapped him across the ass.

"Fuck!" He yelped, struggling to sit up on his elbows, his smoke hanging from the edge of his lips. Vincent had folded his gloves neatly on the edge of the bed and was now removing his trousers. _Fuck_, Ciel mouthed again, the rolled paper falling from his lips as he eyed the fat sex that was released from the lowered trousers of the Englishman before him. Like a pleased cat he reclined his head against feather pillows, gazing at the cracked ceiling. Before Vincent raised his hand again, Ciel was quick to mention, "It vill cost extra if you vant to hit me, _Vincent_." He drawled his name lavishly, enjoying how expensive it sounded on his tongue.

The Englishman grabbed Ciel's hips roughly and smacked him across the ass, growling deep in his throat as he watched the firm flesh snap back in place.

"Money isn't an issue," he spoke, grabbing his dick and rubbing it roughly against Ciel's trembling flesh. "And please, call me f_ather,_" he demanded, his rich eyes downcast with concentration as he pumped his stiff dick. Ciel scoffed in the back of his throat, pushing his hair back off his face.

"Why? Do you like to fuck your kids?"

Vincent's serious eyes widened as he looked up suddenly, glaring daggers at the boy with the French accent. Ciel pressed his hips down against the waiting cock that rested by his thigh and shuddered, his mouth going dry from the look Vincent was giving him. Managing to smile through his hazed state he gave a cocky grin, bucking his thin hips.

"Just kidding _daddy_, fuck me," he purred, his hips gyrating down on the turgid cock that throbbed against his ass. He felt it twitch when he called him _daddy_ but all Ciel could think was _what a pervert_. His entire body tensed as he felt the tip of the slick cock press against him dry, and he tried to relax. He could handle being taken dry, but not by a girth that size. Winding thin fingers into the bed-sheets Ciel shut his eyes, opting to chew on the end of his cigarette instead of smoke it. _With a fucking dick like that, I'll need something to bite down on_, he thought, letting the familiar taste of tabaco stain his saliva.

...

A whisp of smoke escaped bruised lips as Ciel blew smoke across the Paris skyline. He was nestled in his usual perch, his window sill, his bare feet brushing against the cool stone that his apartment was built from. The cool breeze that brushed against his bare chest and legs relaxed him. Not only was the location beautiful and relaxing, but here was a living attraction. Selling his sex from the window of his home, a breathing _come fuck me _advertisement.

A small stack of coins sat on the bedside table, enough for some flour and perhaps some more tea. The extra Ciel had charged for slapping would come in handy for his rent, so he tried not to resent the throbbing of his ass. _Despite that man I still didn't come_, he mused, hunching his shoulders as he sat back on his hands.

Ciel wasn't surprised actually, as he flicked his smoldering cigarette butt to the alley below. He had never had an orgasm in his entire life, well, besides the ones he had created with his own hand. Ciel laughed morbidly at this, choosing to take time to pity his situation. It wasn't as if the men of France had the time or intelligence to make their prostitutes come, but that hardly put him off. Despite all this, he still loved to be fucked.

Resting his head against the hard wood of the sill Ciel tucked his unkempt bangs away from his face. He was a creature of the night, and when the dawn came he would sleep. It was Ciel's job to stay perched in the window of his bedroom, awaiting the predators to eat him alive. There was a faint glow of morning far off in distance, but until then Ciel would stay. Crossing his thin, long legs Ciel rolled another cigarette between his nifty fingers, then placed it between his lips.

...

While Europe slept another being was awake, walking the streets of Paris. Not to far from the _antre du démon_ a tall figure approached the city of love, a simple suitcase clutched in his hand. While the suburbia slept, the black-haired man placed his luggage on the ground and took a long look at the sharp peak of a church steeple before him. The stained glass reflected the beauty of the dawn, and the glimmer of hope that a new city,_ a new life_, proposed. Blood-red eyes slitted as the first rays of sunlight begun to show behind the monolithic structure of the church, creating an angelic glow.

What deceptive imagery, if the young priest had only know of the slum they called the _demon's lair_, that lay only a few streets away.

...

**Ciel and Vincent are obviously not related in this story, but if it floats your fucking boat.**

**New chapter comes out on the 25th of each month. Review or I'll eat your family.**


	2. Angels

**This chapter, like all the rest, is dedicated to my girlfriend Michelle, for our 2 month anniversary. It may not seem like much to some, but it is certainly an achievement to us. This chapter will mark the hardest thing a couple can ever endure, and I'm so happy that we came out of this disaster alive. I love you Michelle.**

**This chapter isn't my best, but I put it up anyway. Maybe baby, you'll see it as a little metaphor. No, this is not my best writing, but I am keeping my promise.**

**...**

January 1st, 1899.

_With the rising of the sun came the rising of the angels._

The sacred heart church, or the _l'église du Sacré-Cœur_, was already as alive as the morning, the cool jets of pastel yellow light peeking through windows, casting multi-coloured shadows to the cobbled and wooden flooring. The sacred heart wasn't the largest of the hundreds of churches scattered throughout France, but it certainly held the majesty that a cathedral of the ages should hold. It was near impossible to look past the grandeur of the church's steeple, rising out of the lush gardens that decorated the holy grounds.

The grand doors of the church were open wide, letting the gentle French breeze roll in. There was a soft rustle in the neatly trimmed bushes as the current rippled over each blossomed leaf. A cobble path sounded neat clicks as the heels of both men and women trod over the flat stones, the Parisian women with delicate fans and parasols to shade their painted faces from the light. Morning mass was the first movement of the day, and as the church goers vacated the holy grounds, a tall black-clad man stood by the grand doorway and bid them farewell.

Sebastian Michaelis smiled a brief goodbye, the simple French word still tasting odd on his American lips. The corners of his warm, crimson eyes turned up kindly as he inclined his head slightly to each passing person, their foreign words never meeting his ears. So caught up in the struggle of a new language, the American flinched when a large hand rested on the neat fabric of his black robes. Turning around he caught the face of his fellow priest, Father Faustas. The handsome clergyman gave a small smile that didn't reach his eyes, which were framed by a pair of glasses.

"Father Michaelis," he smiled, a local accent rich on his tongue although he spoke English rather well. "Congratulations on your first sermon."

Sebastian's lips curled up in a poliet smile and he bowed his head, the stiff collar of his robes creasing as he bent his neck. Father Faustas kept his firm hand on the new priest's back and used it to steer him inside, engulfing them both in the solemn darkness of the chapel. The sacred heart was lined with pews that stretched for metres down the carpeted isle. Magnificent stained glass struck bold lines against the stone walls of the building, casting brilliant light onto the polished wood seats. As they walked down the thin isle, their clergy robes dragging slightly on the carpets, they passed the grand organ which sat by the entrance, it's brass pipes reaching sky high, polished to perfection. At the end of the isle the two holy men stopped, their polished shoes draped by the bottoms of their neck to floor robes, shiny black buttons traveling down each of their chests. Before them was the place they had taken morning mass, a lavish stand with an open Bible resting upon it. Father Faustas, or Claude as he was known by some, traced a finger over the delicate pages of the well read Bible, his golden eyes flickering as he fingered the book. Moving his hand to cup the leather cover, he folded the Bible shut, before raising his head to look at Sebastian.

"Paris is in recession," said the priest solemnly, his face deadly serious as he folded his hands together. "Our people have lost their way, we are no longer the nation we once boasted to be." Sebastian raised his thin eyebrow slightly, pressing his lips tightly together. Whatever his superior had to say, it was important, and he intended to take him seriously.

"There are people in the streets, children with no homes," and here Father Faustas paused to clear his throat, before he continued with such a rich tone of disgust that it made Sebastian shiver, "and prostitutes." There was a small thud in the back of the church, and both black-haired priests turned their heads quickly to the sound. The small blonde altar boy who was moving softly through the pews had dropped a Bible when that vulgar word had been uttered. With an embarassed blush he ducked down quickly, retrieving the precious book. Claude lifted his lip in disgust as he turned back to Sebastian, the passion in his eyes burning like an exotic acid.

"Something must be done about the filth on our streets," he uttered, looking into the depth of Sebastian's eye. The younger priest lowered his head out of respect, but nodded slightly.

"Yes Father," he mentioned, keeping his head bowed as his superior continued up the church isle, disappearing out of sight. Once the sound of heavy footsteps had disappeared Sebastian raised his head, turning slightly to the lavish religious monument that stood front and centre at the head of the church. The wooden Jesus had his arms stretched wide and his head bowed, his disgraceful pose so elegant when carved into oak. Sebastian's eyes flicked over the magnificent crucifix, examining the flawless woodcraft. He'd had nothing so beautiful in America, but a simple wooden cross nailed to the wall. He supposed such grandeur wasn't fitting of a humble servant of God, but in France it seemed to fit.

Small footsteps padded towards Sebastian, so small that the man barely heard the altar boy approach until he was right behind him. Turning, he looked down on the boy, who seemed to be a young man. Icy blue eyes looked up at him, and the altar boy moved past, placing his heavy stack of Bibles on a robed table up the front. With a small grunt, the teenager dusted his hands, then whipped back around.

"Hello," he practically purred, a brilliant smile creeping suspiciously across the boy's face. Sticking out his hand the young blonde waited for Sebastian to accept it, before shaking it delicately. Mischief practically bled from every aspect of the boy's features, his blonde curls sitting neatly against his chin. He kept a firm hold of the priest's hand and moved in close, cocking his head to the side.

"_Antre du demon_," came a gleeful whisper as thin lips curled up into a smile. Alois's eyes glowed with an unidentifiable energy, and it startled the priest. Alois gave a confident nod, lifting his fine brow. A perplexed frown settled itself into Sebastian's face as he kept his hand locked around the smaller's, but he took a step back. The cold, harsh eyes of the altar boy refused to look away, but he faltered as he heard someone re-enter the church.

"Alois!" Snapped a firm voice, Claude's voice echoing against tall walls as his robes billowed around him. Storming down the church isle, the man's bark was enough to send the altar boy into panic, whom skittishly backed off, trotting off quickly in the opposite direction. With an annoyed glare Claude regarded the cowardly child who escaped to the safety of the pews, all the while with that ridiculous smirk plastered all over his pale face.

Rather flustered from his enraged and overly dramatic reappearance, Claude tucked the messed hairs of his hair back behind his ear. As he stood close to Sebastian the two looked over the altar boy, who moved routinely through the isles, pausing every now and then to pick up a book and place it in the stack in his arms.

"He doesn't speak any English," mumbled Claude, watching the boy with flaming eyes. Sebastian was a little shocked at the pure disgust that reflected so clearly in the man's eyes for the adolecent boy.

With a soft voice, Sebastian added kindly, "I don't speak any French." Claude seemed to ignore the kind smile on the other's face, but shrugged a shoulder.

"You'll surely learn Michaelis," he said in his casual monotone voice, giving a pat to Sebastian's shoulder. With that said he turned and made his way out again, but not without giving a warning glance to the altar boy. Sebastian continued to stand at the head of the church, overlooking his new place of teaching, but regardless of the gorgeous architecture he couldn't shake the three words from his head.

_What was the antre du demon?_

...

Sebastian Michaelis was the newest addition to the sacred heart church, the young and promising clergyman having traveled long and far from America to further his priesthood in Europe. At just 26 years of age, Sebastian was already a devoted servant of the Lord, and had surrendered his entire life, body and soul in order to service the wishes of his God.

Moving to Europe, it had been his one goal to help people. He wanted to bring the light of religion into other people's lives like it had brought life into his. It were his superior's orders to cleanse the streets of the poor and desolate, and that is what Father Michaelis intended to do, all with the power of faith. He had come across prostitutes in America, desperate women in downward spirals, with no choice but to sell their bodies in order to live. It was Sebastian's hope to save a doomed soul like he had in America, to lift a prostitute from the depth of desperation and help her find the light.

The first day of the year was bathed in unadulterated sunshine, although the warm glow was a deception, found the priest, as he pulled the simple scarf around his neck a little closer. The winter was harsh and the sun did little to keep the cool at bay. He had draped a coat over his shoulders that ended around his calves. The thick hem rubbed against his leg as he walked, his gloved hands buried into his pockets to keep them warm. The wind was nippy and brittle, despite the promise the morning had held.

The area surrounding the sacred heart was swept and clean, cobbled paths that were worn down by wagon wheels, and well-kept stores abundant with fresh fruits and stock. The area really was ideal, and the priest found himself with a small smile on his face as he took in his new home. Small children skipped through adults, their fine Sunday shoes clacking against the ground as flustered parents reached out to subdue the playful spirits. A small boy brushed past Sebastian, leaving an echo of a giggle as he weaved throughout the pedestrians. The corners of the priest's lips lifted happily as he treaded down the sidewalk.

_Now where to start? _Was the question on the priest's thin, pale lips. With a determined mind the man continued on his way, his eyes open for a soul in trouble.

...

An intense rumble of a shudder traveled down the length of Ciel's lanky calf as he stretched, pointed his booted toe towards the stone beneath him. He fidgeted a bit on his feet and rolled his shoulders, tossing back his head to let it gracefully graze the tops of his shoulder blades. The young man arched and moved as if preparing for a long run, but he was only cold. The shrill air stung against his thin shirt and he tugged his woolen jacket around himself. The darn thing was far too large, but Ciel knew he shouldn't complain. He had stolen it after all, he recalled with a devious smirk.

Ciel stood a few blocks from his apartment, a far walk from the demon's alley. It was verging on high-class and hell, Ciel knew he could be arrested for this type display. His skin had been washed and his hair had been combed, and he had propped his pretty body up against grimy stone walls, his legs slightly spread and his shirt open a little. He was an open invitation to anyone who may walk past. Although it was legal for prostitutes to roam the streets, it seemed the authority around this part of town had a strong distaste for faggots.

As upper-class men walked past (going out of their way to step around the street urchin) Ciel would try to catch their eye. If he were lucky he could lock his one sapphire eye onto their wandering glance, and if he were even luckier, they would stop to talk to him. But it was unusual for the prostitute to be lucky. Even if these men were the type to stray from the path of normality, it was rare they would fall for a boy. Ciel lacked certain _assests_ others found attractive, he thought with a roll of his eye, watching as a middle aged bearded fellow glared at him. Ciel raised his chin and scoffed, staring down at the old bastard as he clutched his expensive cane close to his clean cut three piece suit.

"What?" Ciel spat, tugging at the edge of his shirt until the fabric was yanked down past his heart. Sticking out his chest Ciel followed the man's gaze, grinning wildly. "Wanna see my tits?" He growled, choking on the laughter that erupted at the disgusted look he was given.

"Fucking pervert," the young man muttered, tucking the edge of his shaggy hair behind his ear. It wouldn't be safe to stay around much longer, especially if the police were notified of his precense. The fish weren't biting much either. So with a sturdy kick to the wall behind him, Ciel pushed off the stone and started heading back the way he had came from, fumbling for the box of matches in his oversized pocket. That's when he was stopped by a voice.

"Young boy?"

The accent was undeniable. Like an encyclopedia of voices, Ciel's brain registered the foreign language immediately, and was pleased that he could also understand what the voice had said. Twirling around on the heel of his boot Ciel spun around and faced the man who had called out to him. American.

All in black, a slightly older man addressed him. His face was an pale as frost, dramatised by the edgy black locks that hung around his face. Layers of black robes fell around the man, and his neck was hugged by a scarf. Besides the stupid smile the man wore on his mouth, the stranger was attractive. No, _very_ attractive. A pleased ripple traveled down Ciel's body and he felt his cock twitch with interest. J_ust what I've been looking for,_ he mused, curling his lips up into a smile that mirrored the man before him.

"Yes?" He asked in perfect English, although his accent snagged in his throat. He kept his voice innocent, although he really wanted to yell, considering he had called him a young boy.

_Perhaps he likes them young_, he thought snidley, widening his eye. Ciel was certainly experienced in this art, and he knew just what men liked.

With a small blush the other stepped forward, his head bowed slightly. When he opened his lips, a baritone voice only made the swelling in the prostitutes pants double.

"Excuse me, but could you tell me where I can find a prostitute?"

Ciel's lips curled up devilishly, his eyes flaming with carnal last. _The dirty bastard trying to act so innocent_, he thought, quirking his eyebrow at the man, whose oblivious smile remained plastered to his face. By now Ciel's English was still terrible and it took him a moment to form an answer. With the seemingly sweet smirk still spread all over his mouth Ciel inclined his head, stepping closer to the man.

"I can," he murmured, giving a deliberate gaze to the man in black. He kept his eyes locked on the alluring set of rubies before him as he turned, beckoning the man with his hand. Looking grateful the much taller man trailed after him, pulling the abundance of black robes around his body.

_I wonder what's beneath them_, Ciel thought as his mind wondered. Each new client was like a curious new gift. Sometimes the wrapping was a bit plain, but the insides could be rewarding. He heard the reassuring steps of the man behind him as he crossed the streets, folding his arms across his chest. As his hair bobbed around his face he held in a small smile. With a generous tip from this man he could pay rent this week. He shuddered at the thought of having to suck off his land lord to make rent again.

It was only when Ciel stepped up onto the curb and approached the edges of the ominous dark alleys that he had arrived from that the stranger spoke again. It was the same annoying sentence he had uttered before, and it made the whore roll his eyes.

"Young boy?" Ciel tried to keep his face pleasant as he whipped around, facing the kind face of the man behind him. He admitted to being a little settled by the calm eyes he was looked at with, but aside from that he was annoyed.

"Ciel," he stated, eyeing the man up and down until he was sure his name had sunk in.

"Sebastian," came a chirpy voice from behind him, and Ciel rolled his eyes once more. _What was this guys deal? He just asked me for a fuck, as easily as he were asking for directions._ With that said he stepped into the cool comfort of the dark passage way, with the sound of hesitant steps treading behind him. The narrow passage was far too thin, and there would have been no way that the both of them could have walked side-by-side, so Sebastian fell into line behind Ciel. It was easy to tell the older man was upper class and disgusted by his surroundings, so Ciel picked up his pace. No need to scare off his client before he even got him back to his place.

The young priest kept in line behind the shorter male, watching his dark head of hair bob in time with his swift steps. He hadn't had much time to look at his face, but the boy, Ciel, had one large eye, sullen with the effort of living in the streets. It was clear the boy hadn't belonged in the neighborhood Sebastian had found him in, and he wondered why such a young boy was out there all alone.

But, the young thing had been courteous enough to agree in helping him find a prostitute, and he kept his questions in check in order to seem grateful. Perhaps he could treat the teenager to a warm meal after his mission was complete, the skinny thing looked in need of something filling.

The small passageway seemed to morph into a small labyrinth, a complicated structure of passages that connected and bit and divided one another. The lanky boy ahead of his never lost his way, or if he did he did not show it, the way he held his head high and his shoulder's back, the cocky arrogance of a little prince.

It wasn't too long before the passages opened up into a small opening, a clearing that was void of people besides themselves. There were ruined homes, households made from the remains of another, and a stagnant scent of mold hung in the atmosphere. It mirrored the slums the priest had endured in America, and he felt a sense of purpose as he entered the clearing. Without doubt he could find a street-walker within the broken buildings that surrounded them. The sense of pride and accomplishment he would feel when he lifted a broken prostitute from the chains of society and poverty would be awe-inspiring, so much in fact that he found a neat smile on his lips as he followed Ciel to the edge of a building.

Curiously the boy fished a key from his pocket, the bare, rusted thing sliding into the lock with a hearty click. Ciel twisted the knob and shoved the wooden door forward with a kick of his boot, stepping inside and waiting for Sebastian to follow. The priest stepped inside, looking up oddly at the naked set of stairs before him. He furrowed his brow but remained hopeful, treading up the stairs, following the light swish of the long coated boy before him.

"I can find a prostitute here?" Questioned the black-haired man, reaching the top of the stairs and loosening his scarf. Sebastian slide his scarf from his shoulders and hung it from the coat rack beside the door he had entered from. The boy before him shrugged off his heavy coat, resting it on a stand to reveal a very thin shirt.

Ciel popped the first few buttons of his shirt undone as he listened to the man behind him speak, trying carefully to dissect the words he had spoken. He wasn't too sure what the American had said, but he had caught the word _'prostitute'_. So without hesitation Ciel stepped up to his bed and began to tug his shirt off his broad shoulders.

Goose bumps raised on his skin as he removed the skimpy material of his shirt, slipping it down his arms. It may have been because of the cool air that blew in from the window and the floorboards, but it could have been the excitement. _Such a handsome man_, and Ciel could only hope he was equally as handsome disrobed.

With his back turned to Sebastian, Ciel kneeled on the bed before him, sinking into the uneven mattress, and then slid onto his stomach. Once flat on the bed he rolled over and raised his arms slightly above his head, tangling his fingers in the sheets. His clothed thighs spread slightly, and he released a sigh with as much suggestion as possible. His body was small, tempting, and submissive. "Take me," he whispered, a smile playing on his mouth when he heard how slutty he sounded.

But the moment never came, and in the few moments it took to realise that Sebastian wasn't going to _take him_, Ciel sat up quickly, taking in the horrified expression on the man's face. Sebastian stood still before him, his crimson eyes widened beyond proportion, his thin lips open in shock. The whore turned vivid when he saw the horrified look that had set on the man's face, but even more so at the stiff strip of white collar that sat around Sebastian's neck.

"You're a priest?!" Ciel spat, falling backwards onto the mattress behind him, scrambling to find his abandoned shirt. His cheeks burned red as he fell to the floor with a thud, his legs kicking madly as he snuffled his way into the stubborn shirt. There was a sudden swish of black robes as Sebastian hurriedly retrieved his scarf, throwing it around his neck in a rush, while at the same time grasping for the door handle. Wrapping his shaking fist around it he yanked it open, turning to Ciel but never meeting his eyes.

"You're a prostitute?" He uttered horrifically, his cheeks burnt red as he gave an awkward nod, thanking the boy for his _hospitality_. He was gone within seconds, the door slammed shut as Sebastian fled down narrow stairs and into the midday slums. Ciel remained in his place on the floor, a victim of translation as he slowly came to terms with what had just happened all too quickly.

_He's a priest! _He yelled inside of his head, smashing his curled up fist into the mattress behind him. Yanking up his shirt on the rest of the way Ciel growled loudly, pushing himself up off the floor with a moody stance. _And I'm so fucking hard for him_, he thought bitterly, collapsing back onto the mattress, slamming his fists over his darkened face.

...

**Chapter 3 on the 25th of March.**


	3. Heaven

**Bonjour, mes amours,  
>Here it is, the monthly anniversary fiction that I promise my darling girlfriend. Happy 3 months, beautiful. You are the only reason I wrote this chapter.<strong>

The sudden, harsh slam of a wooden door smacking violently against brick rung out across the silent court of the antre du demon. Invisible residents sounded no protest, but a small, black kitten near jumped out of it's skin, as it was picking through the garbage of a close-by garbage pile. It's plush, slimy nose nudged against a curled potato skin, the brown twist laying abandoned against a shattered eggshell. The kitten's nose curiously pressed against a moist puddle, and it pawed the tea-coloured liquid. As the small thing inclined forward, velvety tongue extended, it was startled a second time by loud, urgent footsteps.

The crisp billow of thick robes echoed past the creature's feeding place, the whip of the wool catching in the slightly overcast breeze. Backing up, the timid midnight cat pressed itself behind the skeleton of a wooden crate, rotating her ears forward and widening her ocean-like eyes. A flash of black sped past the open alleyway, an awkward step, the click of finely crafted shoes. More black, as ebony hair was also sighted, silky strands poking out betwixt a tightly wrapped scarf. The man was gone within seconds, and as the danger dropped, so the tension of the kitten's spine, lowering to the damp ground beneath it, the cat gave a small _meow_, spinning her gentle ears back until they pressed flat to her skull.

The footsteps quickly returned.

The young feline hardly knew what had happened, the terrified animal managing to backup a few inches before leathery hands cupped her fragile ribcage. Her feet were lifted from the ground and her empty stomach filled with butterflies as she watched the cobblestone beneath her disappear. Before she knew it she was raised before a human face, two large crimson eyes staring intently at her.

"I'm terribly sorry, little one," mumbled Sebastian, his voice wobbling and thick with distress. He quickly cupped the small kitten against the crook of his neck and urgently ran his hand over the length of it's miniscule body.

"I've had the most horrible of days, kitten. You would not believe."  
>The priest continued, while the animal fussed against his scarf. Sebastian spoke in English- the only language he knew- but it mattered not to the little kitty, for after all- cats don't speak.<p>

"But how I wish you could believe me," spoke Sebastian, placing his chin a top the creature's head. "Perhaps you could convince me to turn back." Sebastian' face paled, if possible, another shade of white as he recalled the events that had happened only moments earlier.

Sebastian's lips dried and his brow furrowed, and the kitten mewed loudly as the large hands holding her tightened. She delved her lithe talons into the thick leather gloves, and shook her small, nonthreatening head. Alas, it seemed her captor was elsewhere in spirit.

It had started off so innocently. How was Sebastian to have known that the young, wide-eyed youth that had offered him assistance would turn out to be a demon incarnate. That helpful smile, the feigned purity in the child's eye (and now that he thought of it, why was the youngling wearing an eyepatch)? Such superficial details, yet Sebastian had fallen for it far too easily. They had always warned him that evil came in many forms.

The revelation of sinful flesh resounded in the priest's head, mortifying him further. The indelible image replayed over and over, dragging the filthy feeling that had accompanied it with it.

_"You were looking for a prostitute?" _The sultry sweet words had fixed themselves into Sebastian's head, so forcefully that the image of Ciel, in such a submissive and lustful position, seemed to be painted on the interiors of the priest's mind, the whisper-like whimpers the boy had emitted as he sinfully exposed himself to the priest.

As the lewd images flashed across the holy man's face, he suddenly dropped down to his knees, the stagnant garbage water soaking right through the knees of his woolen pants. He brought his hands up to his face, suddenly feeling the intense urge to pray, to confess his the sins the priest has witnessed to his Lord and Saviour. As his hands moved to clasp together, he was aware of something warm and fragile being squished between his palms, and he looked down quickly to catch gaze of two glowing eyes staring up at him. The skinny kitten opened it's little mouth and fussed at him, squirming it's slim back leg.

The sudden wake up call quelled Sebastian, and he lowered the small kitten to the ground, still kneeling in the alley. The small, soot coloured thing looked around confused, and sat very closely to the priest's knee, it's thin tail tapping lightly against his soaked knee. With calmer hands the priest scooped the homeless thing up into his arms, tucking him behind his double breasted coat. Standing, and thankful that his coat hid the staining on his knees, he exited the alleyway, looking out for any bystanders. But, like usual, the antre du demon was silent and empty, and Sebastian tread as quickly as possible away from the two-story apartment that held the most corrupted being he had ever met.

...

The city centre was alive with movement by the time Sebastian had arrived to familiar neighborhood. The dull weather did little to dampen the busy social life of Paris's inhabitants, and they fashioned their parasols and layers of warmth poshly, brushing past Sebastian who eyed them all nervously. He felt as if sin was written across his face, as if the evil acts he had witnessed moments earlier were visible to all who gazed upon him. The blushing priest kept one hand cupped to his chest, holding the concealed kitten in place, and the other fidgeted nervously at his waist.

One gentleman cast him an awkward glance, mostly due to the fast hop Sebastian was walking with, and the priest hurried to throw the man a crooked smile, and blurted out the only French word he knew.

"Bonjour!" He exclaimed nervously, practically shouting it at the man who passed, whom straightened his top hat and picked up his pace. Sebastian gulped thickly, casting a blurry gaze out across the small crowd of passerbys. He could barely see due to his nerves, and he fished out a small leather pouch that resided in the spacious pockets of his billow cloak. With a fumbling tug of his fingers, Sebastian pulled a thin pair of framed glasses from the pouch, unfolding them carefully and bringing them up to his face. The long handle of the spectacles poked him in his large, crimson orb, the usually slitted eyes widened due to his fragile state. He grunted awkwardly, alarming a young woman who passed by, so he bowed his head, and with one eye squeezed shut and a toothy grin he called out to her, "Bonjour!"

...

Ciel hung his head limply in his palms, his back hunched over in a dramatic arch. He sighed outwardly, digging his nails into his face, biting down hard on his lip.

"Merde."

_What was a priest doing here? _Ciel's mind reeled quickly, tossing and turning through conclusions, fears. He knew what he was doing was not illegal. It was welcomed in his country, as long as he abided by a few guidelines and regulations- one of which was a weekly check-up by local authorities, to make sure the boy prostitute wasn't carrying a disease, like an infested rat, spreading his filth throughout the city.

Ciel was lucky though, for even if he showed up to these inspections, it was rare another male would check him for disease. _Perverts_, thought the boy. But, being the only male prostitute in all of Paris had it's perks.

Ciel cradled his troubled head and let out another sigh. No doubt his mind would occupy the thought of the strange priest, the misunderstanding, the fear of being taken out by a secret police. But until then, rent was due, and Ciel had a body to sell.

...

Sebastian couldn't help but bite down on his lower lip childishly, keeping his head bowed as his superior mulled over the information the younger priest had just told him.

Sebastian had come clean, blurting out almost every detail to Father Faustus (although he purposely _forgot_ to mention the part where the_ lustful prostitute _was actually a boy), his rattled mind in too much turmoil to simply keep his sins to himself. Claude has listened respectfully as his junior rambled on, nodding in all of the right places, keeping his calm. He could tell Sebastian was shocked, the young American suffering a severe culture adjustment. The poor man could barely speak a word of the local language, and it was so lucky that Claude spoke both English and French so fluently.

When Sebastian's confession had finished, he has simply bowed his head, waiting for Claude to say something, anything. The silence seemed to stretch on forever as Sebastian's heart pounded in his chest. _Would he be sent home? Would he be forced to renounce his priesthood? Would he be shunned by the religious community?_

His questions were all answered by a simply snort from Claude's nose. The elder priest politely covered his mouth with his hand, smothering a laugh. Sebastian raised his head, a confused expression plastered all over his face.

"Excuse me?" He questioned, cocking his head. His superior giggled at him, hiding his face in shame.

"I'm sorry," Claude pardoned himself, a blush across his nose. He placed his hand kindly on the younger's shoulder. "You've got so much to learn about the streets of Paris, Michaelis." His light-hearted voice suddenly changed, and his golden eyes narrowed.

"I think you should make it your mission to help this troubled young woman," he said seriously, giving Sebastian's shoulder a light squeeze. The blackette lowered his eyes, a bad feeling settling in his stomach. He had technically lied to his superior. How many sins would he commit today? Feeling uneasy, Sebastian nodded slightly, looking back up at Claude.

"I will make it my mission," he promised, "to deliver this young deviant from evil."

...

"Enlever vos vetements."

Hot lips pressed against the shell of Ciel's ear, a temptuous tongue snaking out to slide over the metallic stud of an earring. A shiver reverberated up the young man's spine as he felt large hands grip his hips tightly, and he backed himself up against the man behind him. Shuffling his legs apart, Ciel curled his back, pressing his ass up against the thick protrusion behind him, choking out a moan as the hands on his hips tightened, and he was rutted against roughly.

"Oui."

His elegant back fell forward, his palms splaying against the bed, the ancient furnishing groaning in protest as Ciel put all his weight on one hand, fumbling for his belt with the other. His hand shook, and he yanked the belt loose, his pants following quickly, slipping down his taught thighs. The hard buckle hit the floor with a thud, and Ciel's pants stayed bunched around his ankles, the stiff flaps of his boots propping them up.

"Se propager."

Obediently Ciel spread his thighs, and the clothed cock of the gentleman behind him wedged itself firmly between plush cheeks. The prostitute let out a groan, curving his back as his hands gripped tightly to the bed, feeling a thick hand leave his hip to fumble with the cold belt head that was pressing sharply into his lower back.

There was a shuffling of pants, and Ciel watched the soft tendrils of his hair dangle before his eyes as he waited for his client. There was a step, a squeeze of his hip, and the familiar sound of metal hitting the worn floorboards. Ciel's eyes rolled back into his skull as he felt the thick, hot flesh of his client's cock slide wetly against the dip of his back, the light nip of the night air chilling his skin under the trail of eager pre-come the man left behind.

"Sur vos genoux."

The demanding tone made the boy shiver, immediately dropping to his knees before the bed. His delicate knee caps grazed against the floorboards, marring the pretty skin slightly. One of those delightfully large hands wrapped itself around the tender locks on Ciel's head before tugging them back, urging the youth's head to turn until his chin was met with the coarse brush of the main's groin.

His one, magnificent eye rolled up slowly to look at his client, locking onto the intense, mahogany glare of the man towering over him. The gentleman's hair had been slicked back, the dark mess flattened with the sweat caused from his exertion. The tense lock of his jaw was nearly unattractive, so Ciel quickly lowered his eye. As he did his mouth was met with the fleshy tip of a turgid dick, waiting urgently on his bottom lip. A wet trail was drawn over the boy's lip, making it wet, plump. Deviously, Ciel drew his practiced tongue over the substance, and moaned authentically.

"Miam."

The back of Ciel's head was gripped so forcefully that it was hardly a shock when the tip of that thick, rigid flesh pushed it's way down his throat. After the initial shock, Ciel relaxed, allowing the throbbing cock to squeeze it's way past the narrow passageway of his throat, his client making a small grunt of satisfaction.

Ciel's eye stayed focused on the hair-dusted abdomen before him, watching as his body came closer and closer, his throat opening as he accommodated the violent thrusts of his client. Soon his nose was pressed messily against the warm belly of his client, and the young prostitute placed his hands lightly on the man's knees, bracing himself.

"Mon Dieu," came the languid moan of his client as Ciel swallowed around the hard length buried in his throat. His eyebrow twitched slightly as he thought about what had happened a few hours ago. All thoughts of God were pushed from his mind as Ciel head was pushed forward again, his small nostrils flared as he sucked in a quick breath before all oxygen was cut off again.

"Mon Dieu... _My God_."

Thick palms slapped themselves over Ciel's ears as his client urgently slammed his cock into the back of the whore's throat. Everything went silent as Ciel's head was clamped, the loud _thump thump thump _of his heart beat rung throughout his head as he was jerked back and forth. Like submerged in water, every sound was muted, subdued, and Ciel let his eye fall shut as he swallowed against the intruding thickness deep in his neck.

His client cried out to God, but Ciel couldn't hear a thing, his thick eyelashes mussed against the sweaty belly of his client. His eye flinched irritably as his eye patch was skewed out of place, and his hand darted up to push the flimsy fabric back over his left orb. As his fingers left his face, his skull still being fucked rather viciously, he noticed another in the room, a tall man by his front door.

Ciel's throat clamped down tightly as he noticed the crimson eyes, and the small white collar around the man's neck, who was watching on mortified. Ciel's hands flew up, pushing at his client's hips, struggling against the forceful grip, trying to yank his head away from the violent throat fucking. Sebastian's eyes widened to the size of saucers, and an unhealthy blush spread over his entire face. It looked as if he wished to look away, but simply couldn't, his body frozen in placed, his mouth slightly parted.

"J'aime quand vos pinces gorge vers le bas."  
>"I love it when your throat clamps down," came the lewd moan of his completely unaware client, who still pounded away into Ciel's esophagus. If the situation couldn't possibly get worse, the too-far-gone gentleman started chanting with his approaching orgasm- "my God, my God, my God!" Ciel watched horrified as the intruding priest moved for the first time, clamping his ears over his head. His mouth began moving quickly, almost as if chanting. Praying, was the more likely answer.<p>

By now Ciel's frantic squirming had left light welts on his client's thigh, and the skin around his fingernails was raw and red. The man's thrusts became jerky, unpaced, uneven, and Ciel squeezed his eyes shut as he dreaded the awaited orgasm.

A bitter taste spread in the back of Ciel's throat, a thick liquid coating the insides of his mouth. His client gave a weak thrust, a light tug to his hair, a satisfied calling to his Lord and Saviour. The softening column of flesh slipped from between Ciel's lips, the boy's jaw too locked to even close it. A shaky hand grasped the base of the limp cock, the client messily smearing the remains of his orgasm across the trembling chin of the prostitute. The client's fingers unwound from the boy's hair, and he finally moved back, examining the boy beneath him.

Ciel was sitting with his bare ass to the cold floorboards, his knees spread wide open, his semi-stiff cock laying against his thigh. Holding the boy's chin he looked down at the cum dripping from those full, pink lips, and felt his dick twitch again. That's when he noticed the hazed, terrified look in the boy's eye.

"Mister Fontaine," gasped the priest as he saw the offending man whip around. It was only earlier that day that the holyman had seen Alain Fontaine, a shop keeper close to the Scared Heart church. Mr. Fontaine's eyes flew open, and he yanked up his pants as quickly as possible, desperate to hide his shame.

"M-monsieur Michaelis," he stated, his voice uncertain, quickly darting his eyes between the prostitute he had brutally throat fucked, and the priest who had apparently watched the entire time. He was met with an awkward bow from Sebastian, who couldn't not make eye contact. Instead, he muttered nervously, "Bonjour."

Mister Fontaine left within the minute, leaving the two men in an unsettling silence. Ciel shifted slowly, getting to his feet so he could pull up his crumpled pants, his shaking hands gently clasping his belt buckle. Sebastian swallowed, his thick throat shifting the tight collar around his neck.

"Ciel," he said nervously, his eyes looking at a spot on the wall behind the half-naked teenager. Ciel sat back on his lumpy mattress, looking at the priest's shoes. They were polished to perfection, laced tightly. The boy almost scoffed. Instead, he flicked his eye upwards, forcing himself to make eye contact.

The priest was insanely handsome, and the young boy found he couldn't help himself. With a roll of his shoulders Ciel drew his forearm across the mess on his mouth, wiping off the cum, smearing it across his cheek.

"It means Heaven," Ciel flirted, watching the priest's face light up with bright pink. It was too amusing, and the boy was half-hard. "I can take you there."

Sebastian took in each word the boy spoke, his rich accent sinking into his head. His lip trembled and he looked away, trying to compose himself. _You can do this, he's your mission_, he spoke to himself, wringing his hands together.

"Only God can take you to Heaven."

Ciel stood on his feet, and swagged over, his unlaced boots dragging on the floorboards. Suspiciously, Ciel circled him, eyeing the priest up and down. He was handsome, and lean, a little too tall and a little too think, but attractive all the same. Ciel could feel his heart race as he inspected the other man, who swallowed nervously. _Get a hold of yourself Ciel, you could be thrown in jail for this. Or worse._

"What are you doing 'ere?" He asked, his heart hitching a little in fear of the answer. He paused his circling to stand slightly to the priest's side, who was looking about the room nervously.

"I'm here to save you," Sebastian muttered weakly, dropping his gaze to the ground. Ciel raised an eyebrow, leaning in close, so close that he could in fact smell the intoxicating scent of the man himself. Musk, soap, clean clothes. Something masculine. _Miam_.

"What?" Ciel murmured quietly, casting an intense gaze towards the priest's down-turned eyes. He placed his hands on his lanky hips and tapped his boot slightly. "Monsieur Fontaine not pay me," he managed to spit out, his English shaky. He felt foolish for even attempting, but he tried anyway, watching for a reaction.

This time Sebastian looked right into his eyes, his gaze seeming to strengthen.

"I'm here to save you," he repeated. "I'm here to deliver you from evil. Your soul is corrupted, you-" but before he could continue Ciel was pushing a skinny finger up against his lips, looking at him murderously. To be truthful, he had hardly understood a single word that had come out of the priest's mouth, but he could understand psycho religious babel without the language barrier. Without wasting a second he gave the holy man a sharp shove to the shoulder, glaring viciously.

"Get out," he spat. "Now."

Sebastian stumbled a little bit, his face crumpling up into a confused frown. Ciel laughed at the pathetic priest, and pointed his finger at the door.

"Adieu, monsieur Sebastian."


	4. Patience

**Pet Shop will be updated soon also, so please keep up the reviews- they're like fuel to us.**

**Michelle, my one true love, this is all for you.**  
><strong>(And everyone go read robovacation's Relapse, and review it too. She's FF's most popular Kuro author for a reason.)<strong>

...

It hadn't taken much for the startled priest to leave Ciel's apartment.

The poor man had left as quickly as possible, exiting the bedroom almost as fast as the first time he had entreated. Ciel had watched from his open window as the tall, robed man stalked away, his shoulders hunched in the cool air. It hadn't taken much for Ciel to drop his shriveled trousers to the ground and palm his aching cock, grabbing the throbbing flesh between his cold fingers.

Ciel had only ever been able to make himself come, and even then it was mediocre at best. The build up and heat only amused the teenager for so long, and then would render him listless and unamused, and usually with a finishing cigarette between his lips. But this time it was different.

By the time Sebastian's broad, black back had disappeared into the complex alleyways Ciel was already on his knees, squeezing his sex roughly as he imagined the handsome holy man that he had so rudely dismissed. The surprised, stupid look on his face, the shock, it was almost too much, but perhaps what had surprised Ciel the most about the mild-mannered priest was the determined and near frightful glare he received when he turned his back on the prostitute, and left the building. Ciel kept the delightfully _pissed off _expression fresh in his mind as he elongated his spine against the floorboards, gasping in delight as his hips bucked off the floor and into his groping fist. He pressed his thumb down against his head and groaned, tossing back his head and digging the nails of his free hand into his thigh. His middle finger crooked and lead a path down his leg until it teased and ground against the boy's twitching entrance. As his eye rolled into the back of his head Ciel muttered the priest's name languidly. It wouldn't take long to come undone.

...

It took two days, but Sebastian showed up again.

It was a wet morning, violently cold, the streets of Paris damp and unwelcoming. But the priest had came, his dark head of hair tucked under the thick wool of his coat, drenched and looking like a street urchin. Ciel had watched from his second story window, his cold eye calculating the man below. Sebastian had watched him cooly from the street, a little frown in his brow, but otherwise perfectly composed- that is until Ciel had leaned out of his apartment window and spat at the priest's feet.

Sebastian jumped back frightfully, his eyes darting from the dissolving saliva puddle and back up to the boy in the window. He clenched the fabric above his head tighter and lifted his chin, approaching the apartment door. He gave three, hard knocks before stepping back out into the rain.

"Go away," drawled Ciel, his eyes dancing with amusement as he scowled downwards. The wet and soaking priest was almost as fun as the Frenchman he had had before breakfast.

"I can help you," came a determined boast from below, Sebastian thinning his lips as he retorted back at the rude boy. "You don't have to do this."

Ciel took a seat, tucking his lanky leg beneath his ass as he leaned out of his window, cool rain slapping against the soft of his back, rivering in delicate streams down his shoulder blades. He thought about Sebastian's words, each English sentence a small challenge in itself, but being a quick learner Ciel soon had a response.

"But I like to," he sung, shaking his head at Sebastian, lidding his eyes in a seductive gaze. It was then the priest had given up, and gone home for the day.

...

Sebastian was stressed.

Ever since he had met Ciel everything seemed to be a challenge. The morning mass he loved to deliver now seemed a chore, and the exciting new life he had planned in Paris really wasn't the life he was living. With each new day he received a new rejection from the prostitute, and it brought him down. He was at the point of giving up.

With a small, confused sigh Sebastian blew out the last candle in the church. They were for show only, as enough morning light now streamed through the windows. He could hardly fathom why one would not want to be saved. A life of prostitution? Poverty? Sebastian could hardly imagine a life as such, or why one would choose that path in life and deny a chance at salvation. Another inaudible sigh left his mouth and he looked over to his superior, father Faustas, who was speaking with the altar boy. There were several that attended church each day, but Alois had been taken under Claude's wing, much like a student.

Sebastian watched as Claude cupped the obedient altar boy's face and looked down at him with utter seriousness. He told him something in French, and Alois responded, blinking his icy eyes at his tutor. Once understood Claude drew Alois's face close to his and tilted his jaw, placing a gentle kiss on the boy's cheekbone. Retreating he turned the altar boy's head to kiss his other cheek, something Sebastian was used to seeing amongst the Europeans. It was hardly an unusual sight anymore, although startling at first, it was rather common.

As Claude pulled back from the final kiss, Alois raised his head from his elder's embrace. Locking his eyes onto Sebastian's, the younger boy smirked, ever so slightly. The off-putting smile disturbed Sebastian, and he quickly lowered his eyes to the floor beneath him. There was something unsettling about Alois, but ignorance was bliss. He kept his head lowered until he heard the both of them leave.

...

It was 9 in the morning, and Ciel was sitting at his bedroom window, looking down onto the streets below. He held a cigarette in his hand, and a book was open lazily in the other, Ciel's down turned eye reading off the open page as he tapped ash onto the sidewalk.

Like clockwork Sebastian turned up moments later, like he had been doing for the past four days. Every morning at 9am the priest would turn up at Ciel's door step, looking fresh and determined, but he would always leave looking the complete opposite.

"Bonjour Sebastian," chirped Ciel, not taking his eye off his book. He would see the priest below, out of the corner of his eye, but ignored him. "Let me guess, 'ere to save me, no?" He watched Sebastian shuffle on his feet, and finally turned his face to look down at him.

"I'd like to take a walk," called out Sebastian, the sun reflecting so unusually off his pale skin. A small smile grew on the corner of Ciel's lip and he turned away his gaze, focusing on the city skyline. It was too much fun to hate this man. With no answer Sebastian shuffled his feet and spoke again, cheerfully.

"What are you reading?" He called out, hoping for an answer. Catching Ciel's attention the boy tilted his book towards the priest, holding up the cover.

"Beginner's English," read Sebastian, peering at the small gold font on the cover. Ciel gave a little nod and shut the book, placing it on the window sill. The priest looked adorable, he decided, in a double breasted black coat.

"I will walk," replied Ciel, swinging his legs back inside the window and picking up a thin over shirt to wear for warmth. He tugged his rusting window shut and bolted the door behind him, trotting down the stairs to meet Sebastian below. He wasn't sure what had spurred him to follow Sebastian, actually. The man was the complete opposite of him, but he was rather handsome. The priest actually looked surprised at how quickly the boy had obeyed him, but he brushed the look off his face and instead smiled softly. Perhaps he was getting through after all.

...

"No."

Sebastian's shoulders slumped as he watched Ciel tear off a thick chunk of bread with his tiny teeth and chew it angrily in front of him. The two had sat on the edge of a low brick wall after Sebastian had brought Ciel something to eat, and he had decided to pitch his mission to him again.

"I do not wish for your pity," murmured Ciel through a mouthful of bread, unashamedly looking the priest in the eye.

"But I could give you everything," rushed Sebastian, leaning forward to clasp Ciel's hand excitedly. "A new life, a chance to contribute to society as a functioning citizen." The prostitute's eye widened and he yanked his hand away from Sebastian's.

"E_xcuse-moi?_" He bit out harshly, taking another mouthful of bread. With a frustrated sigh he tousled his hair back behind his ears and got to his feet.

"I do not want," Ciel said steadily. Sebastian looked at him pleadingly but the boy had made up his mind. Stuffing his hands deep into his pockets Ciel shrugged and turned to leave, but a large hand on his forearm stopped him.

"Wait," called out Sebastian, grasping quickly at the rough paper Ciel's bread stick had come wrapped in. With a small pencil Sebastian scrawled something quickly onto the paper, and then handed it to Ciel.

"Please," Sebastian looked at the boy seriously, his eyes grave. "Find me if you ever change your mind. I want to help you," he promised. Ciel gazed at him for a few moments longer than he should have, squeezing the note in his hand until it crumpled. He gave a small nod and pulled away from the handsome man, turning his back on him. He never planned to see him again.

...

Ciel flattened the crinkled parchment out between his fingers, smoothing the address that was written with impeccable cursive in two perfectly straight lines. It wouldn't be hard to find Sebastian's address, as Ciel had spent his entire life within the confines of Paris. He knew it like the back of his lanky hand.

He still questioned why he had left his apartment for the chill of the night to see the stupid priest. Hunching his shoulders Ciel grumbled and rubbed his freezing hands together, walking faster so he'd warm up. Maybe he was sick of living in the cold. Maybe he was sick of having no money, and surviving on morsels. Maybe he was sick of sucking off his land lord every second week when he couldn't make rent on time. Ciel spat bitterly on the ground, trying to rid his mouth of the indelible taste of the old man. Whatever it was, he was sick of it, and that's why he was now trekking across town, to see a persistent priest hell bent on converting him into a lovely blushing Christian.

Ciel's boots scraped against small stones on the pavement as he dodged a puddle, then turned into a back alley that few traveled. The passage way lead away from the town center, and out of the _antre du demon_, and was abandoned and a popular place for lurkers and street rats. The path was unlit, and with each step inside the icy passage Ciel lost more light, the soft glow of candle light and fires paled and the young prostitute was engulfed in darkness, his wide eye adjusting easily to the black.

Ciel knew at the end of this passage there was a park, and beyond that there were trees, many of them- so many that if you peered between the twisted trunks of ancient trees one could see nothing, only darkness. But, the young man didn't know of anything beyond that forest. In fact, no one he had ever met had ever been beyond those trees. Ciel had encountered Englishmen, Germans, men from all across the Orient, but none had ever been able to answer his curiosities of what lay beyond.

The passageway came to an end and Ciel was met with a pale bath of moonlight, and the vast park that spread out before him. There was an iron fence surrounding the park, with dark, menacing spikes tipping the tops of the barricade. The park entrance was only up a few metres, not too far from where the boy stood. He supposed it was to stop feral animals from raiding the filthy back streets of the city, but even so the boy paused to gaze through the iron bars. The thick wool of Ciel's glove protected his palm as it wrapped around the fencing, the tips of which had been cut off so the boy could touch freely. His pale finger brushed up against a tree trunk, the cold wood scraping against his skin. Curling his lip Ciel brought his hand back through the fence, stuffing his half-gloves into the pocket of the large coat he wore.

As Ciel walked along the ruins of the outer city he would catch glimpses of the world between the alleys he passed. Town life cast a warm glow into the alleys, stretching the boy's long shadow out into the night. There were people sometimes, a horse drawn carriage, little slivers of city life observed from the night traveler. Ciel hopped over a brick that had fallen from the crumbled remains of a poor apartment building. The upper class had no idea of what their polished white buildings hid from their view. The slums had always been swept under the rug.

It wasn't long until Ciel came across a church. If he had cut across town the trip may have only taken him 15 minutes, but for his and Sebastian's privacy, he had gone the long way. A large steeple was visible against the smoggy, warm light, and stained glass shone outwards with the glow of a hundred candles burning on the inside. Keeping to the back Ciel double checked the piece of paper Sebastian had given him. He was certain it was the right place, but to make sure he hopped the low railing at the back of the church grounds. As soon as his booted feet hit the neat lawn Ciel's mouth twitched up in a smile. He grinded his boots into the ground, ripping the grass out of the dirt and smearing mud everywhere.

"Holy ground," bit Ciel bitterly, crouching down to examine his surroundings. The yard was large. The church itself was a fair distance from where Ciel sat, but a few feet away there was another building. A small stone cottage sat amongst a thatch of wild roses and weeds, it's windows casting warm light shadows onto the ground beneath Ciel's feet. From where he crouched he could see through the nearest window, and he adjusted himself to get a better view.

The interior was simple. There were some pictures on the walls, and there were curtains on the windows (drawn back though, foolishly). There was a warm lantern hanging from a hook by the door, and several smaller ones spread throughout the clean cottage. There was a sudden flash of shadow as something big moved past the window, and Ciel gasped, shoving his woolen hands over his mouth.

"Sebastian?" He muttered, watching as the young priest moved back from the window and across the room. "I suppose he wanted me to visit him here," thought the peeping boy. Ciel raised himself off the ground, stretching his thin calves when he noticed something that had him crouch back down behind a shrub.

Sebastian had taken off his robes.

In all innocence, Ciel's first thought was of curiosity. _What was he wearing under there? _As the thick bundle of robes were laid across what Ciel assumed was an out-of-sight bed he discovered something that surprised him a little.

Sebastian was wearing a white shirt, and dark pants, similar to the ones Ciel wore, although clearly must more expensive and well cared for. Suspenders stretched over the broad chest of the older male, clipped to the edges of his slacks, and Sebastian hooked his thumbs under the elastic, slipping the strands off his shoulders until they hung against his thighs. He then unclipped the small attachments, and removed the suspenders completely, hanging them off the brass knob of his dresser.

It was when those freakishly large hands started to unbutton the top of the priest's shirt that Ciel's innocence faded. _He's getting undressed_, he thought with a smile tugging on his lips. The thought alone made the whore's cock twitch.

The fine, white shirt was easily slid off broad shoulders, the fabric being hung out of sight. When the priest returned he turned to face Ciel's direction, and the prostitute bit down on an urgent moan.

_Fuuuck_. Ciel's hand grabbed his tented cock roughly, squeezing the hardening flesh from the outside of his pants. Sebastian's chest was beyond fine, and all the horrible priest metaphors sprung to Ciel's mind. _Carved by angels, God-like, heavenly_. They were all true.

Sebastian was long and tall, a little thin, but broad in all of the right places. Firm hips, fine lines that framed his slender belly, pronounced muscles that screamed strength and protection. Ciel has never wanted a man so badly from the simple imagery of his chest. He wanted that warm wall against his back, those arms wrapped tightly around his petite-in-comparison body. Sebastian's bicep flexed as he moved his arms to his dresser and Ciel cupped his fingers under his clothed cock. He swore again.

Watching intensely Ciel mirrored the priest's actions, moving his fingers to his belt as they both unbuttoned the top of their pants. As Sebastian slid off his slacks and shuffled them neatly off and onto the floor, Ciel shoved his carelessly down until they were around his thighs, far enough that he could tear off his glove with his teeth and wrap his hand around his aching cock.

As Ciel's eye fluttered back up to gaze through the window he lost all breath in his lungs.

Sebastian's cock hung flaccidly between his legs. Ciel's eye lit up as his breath disappeared into a cloud of mist as he examined the thickness sitting against Sebastian's pale thigh. His hand trembled against his own cock and his mouth opened, and an odd sound eased past his lips. With lazy pumps he played with himself, his mind to fixated on the sight before him to even control the messy jerks he gave to himself. He'd never been so turned on in his entire life. The stupidly innocent priest that had pestered his way into the prostitute's life was standing naked before him, a thin glass window separating them.

In those few seconds that Ciel spent gazing misty-eyed at the rather large, rather impressive length of the most unavailable man he'd ever come across, he realised one of two things. The first was that he had came all over his hand, cum sticking to the back of his cold fingers and dripping down his wrist. A small droplet fell on the grass below him and he hurriedly wiped his hand on the ground, yanking his pants back up. The second was that he needed Sebastian, badly.

He was positively, absolutely certain that the priest would be able to give him an orgasm. Unassisted, without his own hand. Just pure _la petit mort_.

Without a second thought Ciel was standing, fastening his pants. As he glanced through the window he say the holy man pulling on a pair of loose bed pants, so he made his move. With a determined stride Ciel walked right up to the door of the small cottage and knocked loudly, pushing his sweaty mop of hair away from his face. He heard the sound of bare footsteps, and a large bolt being unlocked. A sliver of light widened as Sebastian opened the door, and his bare chest and surprised eyes greeted Ciel with shock.

Before he could open his confused mouth to speak, Ciel held up his hand and opened his.

"I want you to save me," he boasted loudly, looking the priest dead in the eye.

_Delivre-moi du mal._

...

**Updates every month on the 25th. Read and review.**


	5. Gluttony

**Hello beautifuls! I missed you.  
>I'm on holiday right now, spending winter at the beach with my beautiful border collie. I'd like to know if there are any Australians like me out there, reading this? <strong>

**Don't forget to read robovacation's latest chapter of Relapse. It's our 5 month anniversary today, so review and celebrate with us. **

**Pet Shop is on hiatus, for an undetermined amount of time. I promise you, it's not dead. It just needs a lot of work, because a lot of shit is happening right now. I'm terribly grateful for each and every review I get, and the patience with the Pet Shope issue. **

**Ciel's terrible grammar **_**is **_**on purpose, as he doesn't speak English very well.**

**...**

The small cottage was as warm as it looked.

The solid rectangular home was also larger than first thought, the dreary floral wallpaper spotted with a few thick, glass windows, all lined with equally as dull curtains. There was a large bed up one end, linen made neatly and pillows stacked perfectly. A dresser, a small spotted mirror, a candlestick illuminating both. At the other end was a small kitchenette and a little wooden table. There was also a simple mantle that housed a tame fire, and a small arrangement of framed photographs. When Ciel first entered he saw what he thought were the retreating legs of a dark kitten, darting beneath the bed frame.

As Ciel stared amused at a framed portrait of Jesus lit by the gentle licks of the fireplace, he asked himself if he had made the right choice. His doubt settled deeper as his one wide eye raised towards the wall and landed on an ornate crucifix. He curled up his lip and hissed slightly at it. He really needed to get out of here.

Sebastian had been more than suprised to find Ciel on his door step. The boy managed to enjoy a few seconds of Sebastian's broad shoulders and goosebumped naked back before the priest had pulled on a thick night gown and had ushered the boy in. Ciel regretted his decision slightly. Now that he looked around the Christian cottage, complete with ceramic figurines and at least three Bibles in sight, he realised Sebastian was very serious, and Ciel stood no chance seducing the man. Before he lost heart though his thoughts were disturbed by the very tall priest himself.

There was a small clink and a ceramic cup was placed down on the lace tablecloth before Ciel. It was filled to the brim with tea and the young prostitute sighed gently. It had been a while since he'd had something so warm to drink. Wrapping his hands around it gratefully he let the warmth seep into his cool skin.

"They say it may snow soon," came a deep voice from across the table, as Sebastian pulled back a chair and joined Ciel. The priest's eyes stared listlessly out of the window into the dark night until a small smile tugged on his lips. "I've never seen snow before."

Ciel raised his head and snorted, joining the elder's gaze out into the frosty night. "Nothing special," he retorted bitterly, bringing the fine china to his lips. The hot tea burnt, but Ciel welcomed it. The snow only reminded him of last winter. Wet boots, damp clothes, his mattress frozen and hostile. The dirty snow that melted through the rooftop and onto his floorboards. Cold knees as he kneeled on the floor. Cold feet as his legs were hooked over a man's shoulders. Cold hands as he gripped the iron bed head. _Cold, cold, cold. _And yet the clueless priest held wonder in his gaze, a look Ciel didn't often see in the eyes of men he met.

"I cannot stop," muttered Ciel as a thought surfaced in his head. Sebastian's attention was stolen from the night, and he looked at Ciel with an expression that urged him to continue. "It winter, I need pay," he tried to explain the best he could. "My 'ome, my food," he struggled with the next word but he looked up at Sebastian to see if he understood. The priest nodded solemnly and crossed his arms in thought, staring into his own cup of tea.

"I can't expect you to change overnight," he agreed, fingering the delicate handle of the china cup. Ciel watched his hands intently, admiring their sheer size. They seemed to dwarf the small cup and Ciel fancied the lanky fingers could cup easily around his small waist. His cheeks dusted with blush and he tore his eyes from the impressive hands. His eyes slitted predatorily and he changed tactic.

"You do often?" Ciel asked, trying not to think about the handsome man before him. Sebastian nodded, tucking a rouge strand of hair back behind his ear, and giving a humble smile.

"In America I helped many young women." Ciel almost gagged at the expression of accomplishment that washed over the priest's face, but he covered it with a smirk.

"Am I first boy?" Ciel purred intentionally, loving to see the older man blush. An embarrassed and uncomfortable pink smattering of blush glowed on the priest's cheeks and he shifted in his seat awkwardly.

"You are my first," he answered, oblivious to the way Ciel smirked at the twisted words. The prostitute cast his eyes once more over the beautiful hands of the man opposite of him and released a sigh. _What am I getting myself into? _He thought, hunching his shoulders. He mulled things over in his head for a while, pinching the tip of a silver spoon between his fingers and mixing the last of his tea with it. Eventually he set the spoon to rest on the edge of the china and locked eyes with Sebastian.

"How do it work?" Ciel questioned. He really had no idea of where to start, or what he was doing. Little did he know Sebastian was just as clueless. Back home in the states he had worked to deliver many women from the streets to functioning members of society, but it was always with help from his fellow clergymen. This was his first solo assignment, and with the elusive gender of his new target, Ciel's sex would have to be kept a secret as well. With a sigh that matched Ciel's, Sebastian developed a plan.

"We talk," he stated very seriously. "I want to find out more about your day-to-day life, why you do what you do, I want to get inside of you." Ciel's cock twitched at the priest's choice of words and he dragged his heavy lidded eye upwards, pressing his thighs together under the rickety laced table.

"Oh?" Ciel moaned, tilting his head playfully. A large hand reached over and caught Ciel's, giving it a harsh squeeze, and Ciel shivered at the immeasurable power hidden in the flex of a single palm. The strong look in the priest's eye made Ciel smoulder, but he took the small punishment obediently.

"None of that," warned Sebastian, his cheeks red with discomfort, his lips pulled thin with authority. He turned his face away and Ciel's stomach sank a little bit. _Hard to get_, he mused, fidgeting his booted feet together.

"You sound _insane_" he teased, bringing his finger up to his ear and making small circles as if he were crazy. Sebastian raised a stern eyebrow and slit his eyes, and Ciel dropped his hand hastily. "Should work on French," he mentioned, staring back at Sebastian just as moodily.

...

The unusual meeting ended with the agreement that the two would meet tomorrow afternoon. Sebastian had morning mass earlier, and Ciel had a dreaded inspection with the police. The two has shook hands awkwardly, and Ciel had gotten bothered at the size of Sebastian's hand wrapped around his.

Ciel missed the warmth of the comfy cottage as soon as he stepped outside, and he pulled his stolen coat tightly around him, hoping to warm his skinny body. The ridiculously ornate clock at Sebastian's cottage had shown it was 10 past 10 when the prostitute left, and the night was dead cold.

Not bothering to take the back alley Ciel tredded through town, keeping his head down although all was quiet. It was just Ciel and the street cats, and the occasional gentleman making his way home. Ciel's boots echoed loudly on the pavement and his head was clouded with thoughts. He was so preoccupied that he didn't notice the tall man in front of him until he collided into his firm chest. With an annoyed grunt Ciel looked up quickly to bite out a rude retort, but the man's face quickly stopped him in his tracks.

The stranger was pale and dark haired, and in the dimly lit streets Ciel could easily imagine it was Sebastian. His face faded into an expression of desire and he placed his hand lightly on the lapel of the gentleman before him.

"Looking for a good time," he asked in French, batting his eye darkly. The not-so-subtle sting of alcohol was present in Ciel's nose as he leaned in closer, and the young boy hoped that the stranger was drunk enough to become gay for a night. He was answered with a sloppy grope to his behind and Ciel edged closer to the man, pressing his head against the throat he imagined to be Sebastian's. The two slowly backed into a thin alley a mere few steps away, taking solace in the dark hiding place.

"Take me," Ciel moaned weakly, arching up onto the tips of his toes so he could clench his hands into dark locks of hair. He felt his smaller body being pressed harshly up against the cold stone wall and he gasped out, grinding his hips desperately against the hard belly slammed firmly against his.

"Drop your pants," came an ugly slur from above Ciel's ear and he ripped open his zipper before dropping his slacks to his ankles. He was briefly aware of the sound of a second pair of slacks being dropped to the ground before a naked groin was pressed up against his. The Sebastian-look-a-like made a guttural grunt in Ciel's ear, and Ciel pulled his head away from the wet mouth.

"Your ugly voice is ruining this," he complained, but it fell on deaf ears. The dark-haired stranger was roughly groping every inch of Ciel and running his disgusting mouth all over his throat. A strong hand clasped Ciel's jaw and the stranger looked him in the eye. Ciel lidded his sole orb and squinted, and could still see Sebastian. The disgust faded and he arched into the hand that slid over his semi-hard cock.

That sloppy mouth worked its way back up Ciel's throat and he felt the drunk's lips arrive on his chin. "Don't k-kiss me," he spat out, choking on a yelp as a finger was pushed roughly up his ass. "Careful!" He shrieked, squirming as he squeezed onto the older's arm for comfort. Ciel's head hit the wall as he was finger fucked roughly, his nails digging into the coarse fabric of his partner's coat. A dull whine worked its way between his lips as he danced along the edge of pleasure and discomfort, but the clumsy, fat finger working its way in and out of his hole had him shuddering in pain. Another little gasp flew from Ciel's throat, pushing a cloud of white air along with it. His thighs were stinging from the cold and his chest burned from the rough circles that the stranger rubbed with his thumb. He considered asking him to stop, but his mouth was quickly covered by a thick hand.

"Shut up and let me fuck you," demanded the drunk, roughly squeezing Ciel's small jaw. With a rough push he smashed the boy's head against the wall and kicked apart his booted legs. Ciel submitted and dug his hands tightly into the thick fabric on the man's back and angled his hips forward. The hand covering his mouth slid down to rest gently but firmly on his throat, the calloused palm rubbing dryly against the skinny neck. _Nothing like Sebastian_, considered the boy, until he was ripped once more from his daydream.

The blunt tip of a hard cock was being pressed dryly against the boy's ass. Ciel recoiled as much as he could, curling his back until his ass pressed safely against the wall. His throat was squeezed tightly and his legs were forced apart, and although Ciel could fight back easily he didn't. He let the stranger grab his trembling thighs and spread them again, and force his ugly dick up inside of him, dry.

Clamping down on Ciel's throat, the client cut off the scream in the boy's chest. He felt the frantic nails dig through three layers of cloth, and the pale legs kick desperately beneath his overpowering body. Ciel's eye scrunched shut and he endured the familiar, horrible burn as he was entered dry. It wasn't something he allowed to happen in the safety of his apartment, but now he was at the mercy of the streets, and the man squeezing the breath from his lungs.

The man groaned loudly in Ciel's ear and loosened his grip on Ciel's neck. The prostitute took a deep breath of air, spluttering as he tossed back his head and swallowed the crisp night air. One of his legs was grabbed by a large, shaky hand and propped over the hip of his partner, but Ciel hardly noticed. He wrapped his booted foot around the man's waist and kept his other firmly on the ground, although pressed firmly between a brick wall and a brick head left him little possibility to fall down.

The first thrust came quickly, painfully. Ciel barked out a moan, his voice rough from being strangled. He pressed his head into the crook of the man's neck and held on tight as he was fucked dry and slow. His nose buried against black locks and Ciel shut his eye, filling his head with Sebastian. His prostate was accidentally jabbed and the boy whimpered in pleasure, imagining the large, skinny hands of the priest squeezing his ass. Ciel's mind swum and he thought of Sebastian naked, his huge length, and fantasised of how it would look when hard. He imagined it was that unholy_ thing _pushing up into his tight ass rather than this miserable sod.

Ciel's foot left the ground slowly, digging into the legs of the other, fumbling as it struggled to lift. Awkwardly he slung his other leg around his partner, until he wasn't touching the ground. His skinny body wrapped around the larger's as he lost himself, his eyebrows arched dramatically and his mouth open in ecstasy. _Sebastian_, he thought, moaning like a bitch as he was fucked against the wall.

"M-more, s'il vous plait," he begged, using his the muscles in his thighs to raise him up and down to meet his partner's thrusts. With a cocky laugh the man slammed Ciel up against the grimy wall again and shoved himself as hard and deep as he could. Ciel yowled and thrashed, ripping a shred of hair from the drunk's neck as he was brutally stabbed over and over.

Jerky, uneven thrusts slapped up against Ciel's thighs and he clung harder as he felt his partner draw closer to the edge._ No, no, no, _he panted, trying desperately to rut his dick against something, anything. If he could only push himself over the edge. But all too soon his hips were being squeezed too tightly and spittle was being breathed all over his ear. The man gave a disgusting grunt and shook Ciel roughly, slumping against the smaller boy.

"Get off of me!" Demanded Ciel, slapping the intoxicated man around the head. The man's slicked back hair was now askew and his neck was damp with sweat. Ciel felt it slide along his own until they once again came face to face. Ciel could no longer see any resemblance to Sebastian. With a stern smirk the stranger brought his face in closer, much to Ciel's suprise.

"Don't you dare kiss me," he warned, squirming against the wall that scuffed up his stolen jacket. His ass scraped against cold, rough stone as he turned and twisted his head away from approaching lips, but his body was still wrapped helplessly around the other's. Messy lips planted themself on Ciel's cheek and the boy stopped struggling, instead shuddering in disgust as his face was licked sloppily. _At least it wasn't my mouth_, he considered, but still arched away from the liquor-stained tongue. _Sebastian didn't drink, he wasn't allowed_, Ciel mused. _His mouth would taste so good_.

When the drunk was done, he pulled back, forgetting that Ciel was completely dependent on him. With an undignified squark Ciel hit the street cobbles ass first, crying out as his bony lower half collided with the rock. Pressing his thighs together Ciel ignored his gaping hole and the sickly flow of semen dripping out of him. Instead he turned his eyes up to the disgraceful man who was hitching up his pants.

"Three franc," he demanded hoarsely, his throat still burning. The other looked down at the half naked boy and made an amused sound before brushing back his messed up hair.

"I don't pay sluts," he answered with a slurred spit and stumbled back, and then away from Ciel. _The bastard was getting away! _

"Hey!" Croaked Ciel, tugging up his damp pants and struggling to stand. The stranger was disappearing into the night and Ciel was sore all over, his entire body battered. His shaky legs buckled and he tried propping himself up against the wall. "Hey!" He cried out again, but his voice echoed against the empty streets. Giving up he slumped back to the ground, back against the wall he was just fucked against. "You didn't look anything like Sebastian anyway," he murmured bitterly. His pants still hung open and he felt the mess the other had left soak his thighs. It felt horrible, but he couldn't quite get up yet, so instead he fumbled with a cigarette that was now crumpled in his jacket pocket. His fingers shook as he struck a match against the harsh stone behind him, and he trembled as he held the flame to the tip of his smoke. When he bit the tip down between his lips he sucked in smoke as if it were sweet air, shutting his eyes and pushing his tussled hair off his face.

Ciel exhaled with a sob. The sound rung out against the narrow walls of the tall alley, and Ciel considered how well he matched the trash that was also slumped up against the walls. Ciel smoked in silence, staring up at the sky above him. He knew thinking got him nowhere, it would only lead to agitation, so he cleared his mind. When he finished his last drag, Ciel dumped the butt on the cobble and ground at it with his boot. He got up slowly and wiped himself clean with the remains of a newspaper, the scratchy paper rough against his throbbing skin. He pulled his slacks up his legs and straightened out his shirt, tucking his hair neatly behind his ear, and then he was off.

...

Ciel was woken with a loud thumping on his front door. It was Wednesday morning, the middle of the week, and he was expecting a house call. Reluctantly leaving the warmth of his mattress Ciel stretched and padded out of bed. The timber beneath his feet was cold and uncomfortable as he made his way out of his bedroom and down the concrete stairs to let in two French policemen.

"Hello boys," drawled Ciel, standing aside to let them in. Officer Martin and Bernard were two gentlemen Ciel had had the pleasure of meeting before. The stocky, slightly overweight officer (Martin) was a pig, if it wasn't obvious from his sloppy face, and the taller, slightly more handsome officer Bernard was of higher standards. Ciel had made the mistake of hitting on him before, and it hadn't ended well.

Once inside of his bedroom Ciel knew the drill. He unbuttoned his shirt and slid it off neatly before folding it neatly on the floor beside him. Jutting out his hip Ciel spread his legs slightly and raised his arms. Officer Bernard stepped forward as Martin placed a leather satchel on the dresser by the window. Opening it he took out a short, metal stick and handed it to Bernard. Ciel winched slightly as the cool metal of the stick prodded against his chest, scouting out every small bruise as if it were a cancer. It was embarrassing and awkward to let the two gentlemen poke and prod his skin, checking him for lice or disease, but it was mandatory. Every prostitute in the area was inspected weekly, and Ciel was no exception. At least he didn't have breasts.

Martin paced around the boy slowly, pausing when he came to the boy's back. Examing the grazes on the top of Ciel's ass he made a small cough and brought it to attention.

"How did you get these?" He asked sternly. Ciel was glad he wasn't naked, and couldn't see the bruising between the boys legs. Ciel smirked and cocked his head to the side, letting his unkempt hair drape prettily over his shoulders.

"Oh, you know," he elaborated. "Some men like it rough." The officer coughed at Ciel's nonchalance and stepped back, examining the rest of his body. His eyes glanced over the dark bruising that left a ring around the boy's neck, and he tapped at it lightly with his finger.

"This too?" He asked darkly, conflicted with disgust for Ciel, and the task of doing his job properly. It wouldn't do to have the city's whores looking so disheveled, as it would lower business. Believe it or not, for this reason, France was a popular tourist attraction. Not every city had legalised prostitutes.

Ciel batted his eye and shrugged, dropping his arms as Bernard put away the examining stick. "Too rough," he repeated, keeping his voice low. Martin, unsatisfied but uninterested, repackaged the tools they had brought with them, and collected his hat from the stand in the corner of Ciel's room. As they both turned to leave, Bernard quickly noted something that has slipped his mind.

"How's that eye of yours Ciel?" He questioned, hand on the door and ready to leave. Ciel gave a small smile and pulled back his soft locks, revealing the dark eye patch that covered his left eye. He tapped at it lightly before pushing his hair back over it, concealing it.

"Missing, like always," he sung sarcastically, grinning grimly, and with that Martin and Bernard were gone, and out of Ciel's life for another week.

...

**Updates on the 25th of every month.  
>P.S. Promocat, where are you? I miss you.<strong>


	6. Kindness

**Ladies and gentleladies!**  
><strong>I am so pleased to be back, with a new chapter of La Petite Mort. But, before we begin my lovelies, I have a few issues to address.<strong>

**I apologise for my abscence. I've been having a rather difficult time recently, and my heart and mind are under repair. Struggling, perhaps, but I'm back on my feet.**

**Last, but not least, to Michelle. My little storm. This is a little late, but happy 6 month anniversary. I can't wait to meet you, in a few short months. You are my inspiration, and my best friend. My babu, my pecan nut, my little bat. Check out her latest chapter of The Body Shoppe too guys, there's no wonder she's the most popular Kuro M Rated fanfic writer!**

**Next chapter of LPM will be on the 25th of this month.**

**Thank you all so much, I love you Michelle, and enjoy the chapter!**

...

Ciel lit a fresh cigarette beneath his nose, pinching it tightly between his lips.  
>As the tip began to burn , he sucked in two desperate puffs with desperation, inhaling the thick smoke until it billowed out his nostrils. With a determined frown Ciel followed the disapating smoke with his nose, burying his head in the smog. He coughed angrily, shaking his head in irritation and let out a small growl.<p>

Clenching his hand into a little fist, Ciel smacked the edge of his window pane, swinging his large glass window outwards and letting in a gust of air. The boy scowled and stuck his head out his second story apartment, and barked down into the street below.

"Can you take that _stench_ somewhere else?!"

A man clad entirely in black looked up at Ciel slowly, a bemused smirk already plastered across his features. The gentleman wore a baggy robe that hung around his ankles, and had a thick braid of grey hair hanging down his back. He was wheeling a large cart past the apartments, towards the building next to Ciel's. Upon the cart lay a large distorted pile, hardly covered with a disgusting, stained sheet.

"And where would you suggest I take these bodies?" Teased the grey-haired man, pausing to lean up against his cart. Ciel grimaced and pinched his nose, waving his hand madly.

"I don't care, get them out of here!" He screeched, picking up a thick book from a pile of many that sat by his bed. As he paced back to the window he fanned the book before his face, and then peered back angrily at the undertaker below. "You'll scare away my customers," he hissed, raising his eyebrow.

The undertaker chuckled and took a playful step forwards, eyeing the frustrated prostitute. "You know, _earl_, if you're ever in need of customers, I'm always looking for a laugh." There was a wild cackle from the gravedigger as he darted out of the way of a book, that was flung from Ciel's window. The heavy encyclopedia of english literature hit the cobble with a dull thud, narrowly missing the undertaker.

"Not after last time," hissed Ciel, grabbing the edge of his window and swinging it shut, closing it with such force that the warped pane rattled. "Perverted creep," he hissed, pacing moodily around his room, and contemplating how he would retrieve his beloved book.

...

The weeks following Christmas were some of the busiest for Paris.

Holidayers from near and far flocked to the city at the time. Either seasoned travelers, or first time adventurers seeking the thrill of the city of love, and the fantastical sights they'd read about in books. Snow-capped catherdrals and frozen rivers that glimmered like crystal, it was a sight to behold, and it drew in thousands. It was a dream come true, and wheter you had come to Paris to see or to be seen, you could never deny the majesty it held.

However, despite the beauty of the city, there was one thing every upperclass could not ignore- the shopping scene. Shop windows were decorated in the owner's best products. Small winter landscapes crafted from wool and small figurines would draw curious onlookers close. Bakeries would display warm pasteries, straight from the oven, sprinkled with icing sugar and a sprig of holly. Toymakers stuffed the windows with handcrafted bears, their necks tied in crimson velvet bows, and lifelike porcelain dolls with faces as pale and beautiful as the children who flocked to the windows to look. Their little gloved hands would press against the pane, and their noses bumped against the glass. Mothers would wait impatiently in the cold, until they grew fed up, grabbing their little one's hand and dragging them away so they could look at some adult treasures of their own.

The rue de la Paix was the finest of all shopping centres. Fine jewellers and tailors produced the most beautiful (and expensive) for the season, and it was always sold. Shopping on the rue de la Paix was a social ranking, only the finest and richest could afford such a luxury.

Amongst all the excitement, a new Cartier has opened, the first on the rue de la Paix. There was talk for miles around, and was clearly the attraction of the centre this year. Even Sebastian had heard about it, from the paper, which is exactly why he was standing out front of the lavish store. Besides the small community surrounding the church, this was the only place in Paris Sebastian knew how to get to (besides Ciel's apartment, and he was hesitant to return there). Ciel had begrudingly agreed to meet by Cartier at noon the night previous, but the little prostitute was running late.

Sebastian washed his eyes over the crowded street once more. His hands, which were buried warmly in his jacket's pockets, fidgited anxiously. He had been absolutley certain that Ciel would show up, but that had been half an hour ago. Now, his hope had sunk a little, but he still watched nervously for any sight of the shorter man.

Ciel struggled with the crowd. He wouldn't call himself short, but he certainly wasn't tall. Men and even women towered over him, their bodies bustling past as if he weren't there, hard shoulders clipping his, and heeled boots stepping on his toes. Ciel poked his head out higher of his scarf, craning his neck to try see over the crowd. A few metres ahead he saw the overhyped Cartier sign, and he angled his body towards it. The crowd grew less dense, and through the pedestrians he caught sight of Sebastian. He looked handsome, all in black, as usual, with a scarf wrapped tight around his neck, hiding that stupid white collar. Ciel smirked as he watched the priest turn his head, scanning over the sea of people.

"He's looking for me," he thought smugly, pausing for a moment just to watch the impatient face of the man a little longer. Ciel's chest felt funny and his breath quickened, and he felt his face heat up. That's when Sebastian noticed Ciel in the crowd, and a big, ridiculous smile spread out across his features. Throwing his arm up in the air, Sebastian waved rapidly, and then called out in a loud, booming voice.

"Ciel! Over here!" Ciel quickly buried his face in his hands as dozens of onlookers spun around. Keeping his head down he hurridly pushed through the crowd, trying to ignore the stares.

"Stupid American," he muttered as he approached Sebastian. The priest smiled warmly at him, and Ciel glared back at him. Trying to think of something to say, he just murmured, "'ello." It was difficult to stay so cold when the idiot was smiling at him like that.

"I didn't think you would show up," Sebastian admitted, turning away from the store a little and prompting Ciel to walk with him. Ciel listened to the man's words and took them in one by one. Although he was grasping the language, it was always hard to fully understand what the man said, and it took him a moment to form the sentence in his head. He gave a small shrug and stood closer to the priest as the thick crowd surrounded them once more.

"Where we go?" Ciel asked, taking a hold of the priest's jacket as they waded through people, as not to lose him. His attitude was lost when he couldn't speak his native tongue, and he felt rather shy and unsure of himself.

"I promised you lunch," Sebastian said, using his arm to guide Ciel in front of him, keeping him out of the traffic of bodies. Ciel felt the man's chest bump against his back and he grunted gently, reminding himself not to roll his hips up against the man of his desires. Lunch sounded good, better than a morsel of buttered bread, so he didn't want to ruin his chances of a free meal.

...

At a small bakery out of the crowd's way, Ciel sat at an outside table, a slice of cake half eaten on a decorated plate. Sebastian watched as Ciel ate, licking the silver spoon clean after each bite, like a little kitten. It had been a nice afternoon, and Ciel had almost forgotten why this priest was with him. _Oh_, the conversion.

"How long have you been a, um," Sebastian faltered, searching for a word.

"Whore?" Ciel finished, saying the word boldly. He wasn't ashamed of what he was. Sebastian nodded, embarrassed, and waited as Ciel nibbled lightly on a swirl of hard chocolate.

"Five years," Ciel mentioned, his eyes watching as a lady walked a small poodle past them. Sebastian seemed to think deeply for a moment, his mouth open in an unspoken question. Ciel waited until the priest looked up, and he gazed into his unusual red eyes.

"I just turn 19," he elaborated, picking up his spoon and stirring it through the remainder of his tea. These answers were things he'd recited to police many times, and he had no difficulty with his English in these regards. "Not illegal, in Paris." Ciel watched Sebastian's hands as he spoke, he had some obsession with the exaggerated features of them. The priest nodded and clasped his hands together, fidgeting them, all the while with Ciel watching. The tips of the prostitute's ears were red by now.

"Don't you want something better, though?" Sebastian asked, trying to catch Ciel's gaze. The younger smiled sadly and shook his head, finally looking up.

"There is not anything better."

...

Sebastian had questioned Ciel for another hour, ordering another slice of cake for the smaller boy, who had accepted it gratefully. Ciel would chat in broken English, scooping creamy cake into his mouth in small, delicate bites. He was obviously self aware of his ratty clothes, and his slightly mussed hair, but the boy ate like a gentleman.

Sebastian learned that Ciel didn't know his parents, and didn't care to find out. That he had started his life in an orphanage, but had fled as soon as he was old enough to fend for himself. That's how he'd become a prostitute, he needed money and he needed food.

"It all seem excite at the time, to young thing like me, money, sex," Ciel raised his eyebrow as he watched the priest blush. "It not so excite now."

They had left the bakery and gone walking, towards the back streets to avoid the crowds. They had ended up near the park that was shut off from the city by a large fence, the park that Ciel loved, because of the mystery of what lay beyond the trees. Ciel walked closest to the fence, dragging his fingers over the rails as they created little _pings_. His eyes stayed on the cold trees, some deciduous, others naked. The questions about Ciel's past had died out, but now Ciel had one.

"'Ow you going to change me?" He asked, never taking his eyes from the trees. His boots scuffed against the ground and he shivered a little in the cold. The attitude between them was relaxed and almost playful, and Sebastian enjoyed the boy's eagerness for conversation.

"I'll admit I've never helped someone before who didn't want to change."

Ciel gave a proud little smile that reminded Sebastian of a pompous prince. Remove the ratted jacket and replace it with a robe, and you'd have a member of royalty. The little smile stayed on Ciel's face, somewhat hidden by the high rise of his scarf, and he gestured to the trees that dotted the horizon creepily.

"Do you know what is beyond?" He asked, the edge of his lips smiling, but his eye opening in expectation of an answer that he'd been searching for, for years. Sebastian shook his head, a disappointment, and paused to look into the woods.

"Suppose we find out?" Sebastian asked, looking down on his young companion. Ciel's heart skipped and he looked up at the priest, his mouth open slightly. The blackette smiled gently and looked back to the trees, contemplating adventure. "Perhaps when it's warmer, no?" He continued, watching as Ciel suppressed a shiver. A harsh wind picked up, blowing dead leaves around their legs, and picking up the edges of Sebastian's robes. Their scarves fluttered aroud them and Ciel's hair whipped back. The younger seemed to curl in on himself, wrapping his thin jacket tightly around his body. The temperature seemed to fall dramatically in a matter of seconds, and their breath begun to cloud.

Something wet smacked into Ciel's face, like rain, and the wind caused it to sting. The frosty pellets continued to hit his face and soak his skin. Ciel growled and wiped at his face, trying to sheild it with his scarf, but was distracted when he saw Sebastian, gazing upwards with an awestruck sense of wonderment on his face. Before he could question it, Sebastian breathed out something happily, white fog swirling around his pale jaw.

"I told you it was going to snow."

Ciel frowned and noticed that the wet pellets hitting his skin were small snow flakes. The icy cloud debris fell from the sky and began to litter the ground and dampen Ciel's already worn clothing. He mumbled and dug his hands into his pockets, wrapping his scarf around his head like a hood. Momentarily distracted by the snow, Sebastian had forgotten about Ciel. As he looked down he saw the small boy shiver, and his smile fell.

"Ciel," he muttered, quickly stepping closer to the boy. He encircled Ciel with his long arms and drew him in carefully. Ciel flinched, stepping back a little and curling away from the physical contact. Feeling Sebastian's arms behind him, he leaned into the touch, looking up at the priest with confusion. It wasn't until his head touched the warm wool of Sebastian's chest, or his body pressed against the well heated clothing of the priest, that Ciel understood what was happening. He greedily leaned close to the heat and let Sebastian hold him tightly to his body. A large hand curled around the back of his head and Ciel lidded his eyes and pressed against it. He could hardly feel the cold, and he pressed his nose into Sebastian's heart as the snow fell around them.

Sebastian's heart was loud, suiting, as the man wore it on his sleeve. Ciel listened as it pumped blood, beating quickly because of the cold. Ciel's raced too, but it had nothing to do with the temperature. Sebastian's other hand rested on the small of his back, and while he wasn't sure why, Ciel felt it to be deeply erotic. He curled his back and enjoyed being pressed into the man's firm chest, and he angled his hips in such a way that his crotch wouldn't be noticed if it were to stiffen.

"Merci," he murmured, digging into Sebastian as the wind bit his ankles. Sebastian felt him shiver and squeezed the skinny body, so tightly that Ciel was careful to suppress a moan. The giant really had no idea what he was doing to his body.

"If you were to eat more you wouldn't get so cold," complained Sebastian, rubbing the length of Ciel's back to heat him. Oh, he was certainly warm. Unable to form a reply, he grabbed onto Sebastian and pressed close, too content to move a muscle.

...

Ciel stepped into his apartment and was met with the cold stench of rotted wood. He had no candles, he would need to buy more, so he fumbled quietly in the dark. Sebastian had walked him home. After embracing in the snow, the wind had died down and the two were able to walk back to the antre du demon together. Reassuring Sebastian that he'd be fine, and warm, Ciel had reluctantly bidded the priest farewell, with plans to meet later in the week. He was confused and agitated at how he felt about the priest. Thoroughly turned on, but there was a hint of something else, something foreign, and it unsettled him to no end.

Perhaps he could make a cup of tea with the small stump of a candle that remained, his last one. He knew he had a match somewhere too, saved for nights like this. Blindly making his way across his apartment, he met a wooden counter with a few items placed neatly a top. A chipped china tea cup that he had found among discarded shop keeper's garbage, and a metal tin.

Ciel's frozen fingers fumbled with the top of a rusted tin, and he grunted as his pained hands slipped on the stubborn thing. He finally flung off the top, throwing it across the wooden counter, and fished his fingers around inside of it. Nothing.

There was no food, and no tea in the house, and Ciel slumped down to the ground, weary and crestfallen. His wallet was as empty as his stomach, and for a moment the boy wasn't sure what to do. His dark apartment suffocated him, and he drew his knees up to his chest, patting the side of his boot for his cigarette tin. He found the silver case, the small thing glinting in the sliver of moonlight, illuminating the green rust against the intricate pattern. He'd had it since he was small, but he wasn't sure where it had came from. Perhaps he'd stolen it. He flicked open the lid and wasn't surprised to find he was out of cigarettes too.

"Rien," he mumbled bitterly. Shoving the case back into his boot, Ciel stood and paced quietly to his window. The room was cold, and he hugged his coat tighter around himself. Taking a seat by his window, he tucked his lanky legs beneath himself and stared out of the glass. A defect in the glass created a wobble across the pane, and it distorted his view a little. But, still, he noticed something outside.

His neighbor, who lived in the building beside his, a thin alley between them, had their light on. Warm candlelight hit the frozen ground and cast long shadows onto the cobble. Ciel's stomach dropped as he watched the undertaker's shadow moving about, his thin body distorted by shadows. He was desperate, he was hungry, but even the idea of a hot cup of tea and a loaf of bread couldn't tempt Ciel into what he was contemplating. Frustrated, he fumbled for his cigarettes, before realizing he was out. That was the final straw. With a shuddered breath, Ciel raised himself from the window and left his cold apartment, locking the door behind him.

...

The bastard hardly looked surprised to see him. Stepping back, the undertaker let Ciel in, and with little enthusiasm, Ciel overstepped the threshold and let himself into the candlelit funeral home. He heard the door close behind him, and he flicked his eyes over the room. It was dark, although littered with candles, the corners were still as black as coal. Coffins were stacked against the walls like bookshelves, crooked and polished, some with lining, some with paint, other had smaller coffins stacked inside of them. Some were full, and nailed shut.

"Would you like to try one out?" Came a smiling voice from behind him, and Ciel rolled his eye, whipping around to face his unfortunate client. The undertaker had removed his robes, and was standing in a pair of dark slacks, with a crisp white shirt and black suspenders. His hair had been released from it's plait, and sat around his shoulders in long tendrils.

"You know what I'm here for," mumbled Ciel, shrugging off his jacket. The room was warm, a fire by the far wall, and he was grateful for at least that. He placed his jacket on a small table, and kicked off his boots, kicking them neatly under the legs of it. He could feel eyes and a smirk on his back, and he losened the first button of his shirt, as slow as he could, he was hardly eager to begin. He soon felt a warm chest press up against his back, and the scent of death filled his nose.

"You don't have to remove your clothes, _earl_," teased a thick voice from behind him, pressed to his ear. A playful mouth nudged the edge of his face, and a hot tongue crept out and dug against the string that kept Ciel's eye patch on his head. Ciel shivered, and drew away from the touch. He almost begged him to stop, but his stomach mumbled, and he knew he would rather this than to starve. With trembling hands, Ciel reached behind his head and tugged the little knot free. His eye patch slide away from his face and fell into the palm of his hand, where he kneaded it nervously.

"Turn around little earl, I want to gaze into your eyes," purred the undertaker, bemusement thick in his voice. The cruel nickname brought a sneer to Ciel's lips and he whipped around, looking the grave digger right in the eye. His blue pupil focused on the smirking grey-haired man, but his right eye saw nothing, the milky orb blind to anything.

"Romantic," Ciel sneered, pushing his hair back off his face. With a delicate touch, Ciel pressed his thumb beneath the base of his blind eye, pressing down until his finger dug under the edge of his eyeball. With a well-practiced twist, the small curve of glass popped free from Ciel's eye socket, the false eye placed carefully to the side with his jacket. Blinking, Ciel struggled with the loss of the orb, rubbing his empty eye with the heel of his hand. Disfigured and misshaped, Ciel inclined his head so his deformity was cast in shadow. A large hand cupped the side of his cheek, and Ciel leaned into it slightly, reminded of the way Sebastian had held him like this today. He was rudely awaken from his thoughts as a thumb intruded his empty eye socket roughly, digging into the sensitive flesh.

"Fuck!" He cried out, jerking his head away, tears forming on the edge of his missing eye. Biting his lip he stopped a whimper, blinking his sore eye. With a defeated whisper he murmured bitterly, "just get it over with."

Dropping down to his knees, Ciel kneeled on the hard floor, his hands sitting on the undertaker's thigh, just above his knees. He watched as two hands unfastened the slacks in front of him, letting suspenders drop to the sides, and then two thumbs lowered the fabric until it fell from the pale hips. Ciel looked away from the confronting dick before him, up close and rock hard. He scowled a little and reclined his head, staring the undertaker in the eye.

"Hurry up, you demented fuck," he murmured, feeling completely numb. He let his mind wander back to Sebastian and he suddenly remembered why he'd agreed to let this priest "help him". _Why am I doing this to myself?_ He thought, before being ripped from his daydream.

The blunt, slick tip of a rigid cock was pressed roughly against Ciel's eye socket. Ciel dug his nails violently into the thighs he clung to, and opened his mouth in shock. This wasn't the first time the undertaker had taken him so perversely, but it hurt just as much as the first time it had happened. His breath came out shaky and ruined, and he would have collapsed if the undertaker wasn't clenching his hair with an iron grip. The tugging of his hair wasn't even registered as all the pain erupted from the cavity in his face, causing his entire body to writhe.

There was a smug laugh and Ciel bit his tongue, feeling intense rage at the man who mocked him. He would have bitten off his dick if he wasn't relying on this torture for his next meal. The gentle skin of his eyelid tensed as he tried to blink, with the turgid column of flesh penetrating his eye. He felt exposed and degraded, more so than usual.

"How's that feel, little earl?" Purred the undertaker, who rolled his hips slowly, making Ciel whimper as the tip of his cock rubbed against sensitive nerves. Ciel bit his lip and held onto the man's thighs for comfort, trying to breath.

"Lucky your dick is so small," he bit cruelly, exhaling sharply as an intentionally rough thrust was giving to his eye socket. Rocking in and out, the undertaker fucked Ciel's tense skull with the first inch or so of his cock, as it was as much as the small cavity would allow. Ciel tried to relax against the thrusting, but everything stung, like something inside his head was being pressed that shouldn't be pressed. He just wanted it to be over, so he slid his hands higher up the man's thighs. The small thing's hands shook in pain, but he nudged against the base of the undertaker's cock gently, massaging it as it entered his eye. His vision was skew as he tried to focus on what he was doing, but he was overwhelmed with pain. He felt his hands drop weakly as he couldn't continue what he was doing. He wasn't sure if he was unconscious or had fainted, but he could see and hear everything around him.

He was looking at the base of a coffin. It was a few feet away from him, and it was lined with red velvet. He could see his own hand curled before his face, limp. He was on his back. These were the few things Ciel could gather as he came to his sense. He turned his head, and his eye throbbed. He pressed his fingers gently to the flesh and could tell it was swollen. His legs were laying limply, and one was tucked beneath him. As he looked to his left he could see the undertaker at a makeshift desk, working on the innards of a coffin. Ciel wasn't sure if someone was inside, or not. He didn't want to find out.

He got to his feet, slowly, feeling colder than he had before. His head throbbed and he desperately needed water, but his client seemed in no mood to host. When he stood he discovered a small pile of coin sitting by his eye patch. There was a little extra, because of the unique sexual experience, but not as much as there should have been. The brazen prostitute would normally have demanded the rest of his pay, but he was in no mood to demand. Instead, he wrapped the coins in his hand gratefully, and retied his eye patch. He picked up his coat and moved towards the door. Before he left, he looked over at the undertaker. He imagined he looked a mess, and he could feel something wet and cold dripping from his eye.

The undertaker looked up momentarily from his work and looked between Ciel and the door. "Get out," he said with no emotion, and went back to his work. Ciel didn't need to be told twice, and he left the store in a worse mood than he had arrived in.

...

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	7. Sloth

**Greetings and salutations ladies, and welcome to a new chapter of La Petite Mort.**

**Happy 8 month anniversary to my beautiful girlfriend, Michelle. For those of you who don't know, robovacation is the love of my life, and we've made plans to meet up in January, I purchased my passport a few days ago. My heart is aching to finally see my soul mate, who lives on the other side of the planet. This fic is entirley dedicated to her, and our romance. If you haven't already, read her latest chapter of Relapse, as it is **_**exquisite**_**. **

**I love you darling.**

**...**

Ciel Phantomhive was new to the Asian experience.

Not surprisingly, there wasn't a large population of French=Chinese living within the city. Sometimes sighted within the slums of the back streets, they were a curious sight to behold, their brightly colored silk kimonos a sharp contrast to the black and grey of passing men and women. Their skin was pale, and their eyes were small and black, and they kept their homes neat and clean, as Ciel has often observed from his apartment's window. Never had the Parisian prostitute come in contact with the unusual foreigners- not at least until tonight.

Atop a small pile of embroided cushions, Ciel was perched in a lazy recline, his bare feet stretching into the orange silk beneath him. A blue kimono was draped lazily around his body, slipping off his shoulders and revealing his pale skin.

The Chinese man beside him spoke to him again, and Ciel dragged his heavy eyelid up and to the side, staring at the one who had spoken. Lau, as Ciel had come to understand, was apparently a wealthy businessman, who was visiting Europe for pleasure. The older gentleman had creamy skin and eyes that were slit so tightly that it almost looked as if they were shut. Lau looked at Ciel expectantly, and Ciel shook his head, turning up his lip.

"I don't speak Chinese," he repeated for the tenth time that night, opening and closing his hand like a small mouth, and then waggling his finger to signal _no_. A knowing smile spread out across Lau's features as he placed a long pipe up to his lips, holding the tip above a small, ornate lamp. A thick, sweet scent swam around Ciel's head and his nostrils flared, eyeing the pipe greedily. When Lau was done, his hand reached out and he took the pipe from the business man, bringing it to his own tiny mouth.

Although it was clear Lau, or the three other Chinese in the decorated bedroom did not speak any English, what-so-ever, Ciel had learnt the name of the floral-scented drug that made his head heavy. Opium burnt his throat, and he coughed softly, bringing his hand up to his mouth. There was hushed laughter as he felt eyes watching him, and he snarled in no particular direction. He had also learnt he was somewhat of an amusement to them.

As Ciel inhaled from the bamboo pipe for a second time, he felt Lau move closer to him, in a dream-like motion. The drug started to lid his eye, and Ciel's vision became hazy, and when his kimono was pushed back to reveal his pale chest he moaned softly as nimble fingers toyed with him gently.

Foreign words were whispered in his ear, and a mouth brushed against his racing jugular. Ciel's gasps fell fluidly and genuinely, as the effects of the drug caused him to push his relaxed body into Lau's firm and warm chest. He wasn't sure if he was naked, or clothed, as his body was surrounded by silk, so he reclined his head and completely surrended himself to the high. The bamboo pipe fell from between his fingers, and a little ash tumbled out onto the expensive bedding. Ciel didn't even notice, as a large hand curled beneath his ass and began to play with his entrance.

He was too far gone to even restrain the moan that came from his throat as his ass was toyed with, his hips bucking up recklessly to find more friction. His body felt as if it were sinking deeper and deeper into the silken cushions beneath him, and yet he felt as if he himself were floating from the floor. His head fell back as a mouth bit into his throat, and his long hair splayed neatly across the floor. Ciel's pupil was blown out to the size of a franc, and his eye rolled around in his head uselessly as he struggled to keep it open.

Above his head he saw incense sticks, smoldering in jade pots decorated with detailed cherry blossoms. The petals seemed to move and Ciel reached out his hand gently, discovering even his own, light limb felt as heavy as lead. A gentle word mumbled from the boy's mouth as he was lifted by warm hands, and turned, his limp legs folding neatly beneath his body like a ball-jointed doll. His head lolled back onto somebody's shoulder, and now he felt another body press against him from the opposite direction.

There was a chuckle, and Ciel frowned, his vision focused on the roof above him. His anger was resolved when silk brushed up between his legs, pressing his hard cock up against his stomach, smearing residue across his naked body. The kimono was untangled from his legs and slipped off of his arms, and discarded among the rest of the flowing sea of silk.

A hot, heavy cock squeezing itself up inside of Ciel made him snap his eyes open, and he cried out, arching his back and choking on a moan, or a scream, he wasn't entirely sure. His hands grasped a bicep and a handful of ashen black hair, and the boy writhed, feeling two pairs of hands keep him in place. Another string of Chinese words were whispered against his throat, and he tried to reason with them.

"I don't..." He managed, his voice lost as he shuddered with pleasure, his eye rolling backwards as he cried out and arched. His small, harmless nails dug into skin a different shade of pale from his, and he spread his thighs as wide as he could get them. He was sitting in Lau's lap, his hips rocking back and forth as he fucked himself against the thick cock nestled inside of him.

"De plus, _s'il vous plait_," he begged, droplets forming on the corners of eyes. A mouth kissed ravenously at his curling back, and another mouth explored his navel, tickling the sensitive tip of Ciel's weeping sex. The boy jerked hurriedly, trying to find relief, but his hips were pinned down and he was thrust into roughly as someone tugged his hair. He found himself mouthing _oui_ over and over, his hips moved to their own accord as he desperately tried to find relief. The blunt head of the cock buried deep in his ass kept brushing past his prostate, and he curled his spine to try impale himself upon it.

Sweat trickled down his back, matting his hair to his shoulder blades and his forehead, and he pushed it back off his face with his free hand. His eye patch was damp and askew, and he clutched at it weakly as he felt his fake eye throb. The eye cavity was sore beneath the patch, but Ciel breathed out and tried to relax.

Short, uneven breaths panicked Ciel, and he shook his head furiously. _No, no! _He begged inside his head, feeling his body shake as the hips against his thrust out of time. _I'm so close, _he whimpered, grabbing his dick with his trembling hand. He fisted his own cock quickly, desperately, feeling the orgasm of his client approach quickly. He grunted with frustration and squeezed his turgid cock between his fingers, slipping his hand over it easily as it was slick with cum. There was a loud, broken moan in his ear that had him cry out in anger, hot seed filling his ass as Lau finished inside of him. With a pathetic whimper Ciel fell onto the chest of the stranger in front of him, exhausted and trembling, although never reaching completion. That was his curse though, wasn't it? His clients never made him cum. They simply weren't enough, and as Ciel was laid down on soiled silk sheets and was withdrawn from, he begun to wonder if anyone would ever satisfy him.

...

The effects of opium were known to last for up to 12 hours. Of course, Ciel didn't know this. Dressed in his regular clothes again, with damp sticky thighs, Ciel stumbled aimlessly along a cobble stone road, his hands stuffed in his pockets and his shoe laces untied. The sweat on the back of his neck was now cold, and he shivered violently, his nose sniffling. It hadn't snowed much since the day he'd last seen Sebastian, but the ground still held a wet layer of frost in the cold midnight.

His head was heavy and he found it hard to walk, his lanky legs tripping over one another as his hand steadied himself up against a grimy wall. The moon was bright, but the night was unforgiving, and shadowed obstacles seemed to leap out of nowhere and trip the drugged boy up. His vision spun and he struggled not to fall, his knees giving out as he surrendered and sat down in the cold, wet sludge of the ground beneath him.

Melted snow leaked into his pants and soaked his undergarments. He protested quietly, mumbling something he wasn't quiet sure of, but he was too far gone to even correct himself. Propped up against a pile of discarded crates, Ciel reclined his head and stared up into the sky. The stars danced before his vision, and it made him feel ill, so he squeezed his eye shut.

Resting there for a few minutes, he tried to collect his flurried thoughts, and calm his racing pulse. The longer he sat, the more he began to freeze, as even the effects of opium weren't enough to keep him warm anymore. With a disgruntled sigh Ciel pushed himself inelegantly from the ground and stumbled up the street, keeping close to the dirty wall as he held himself up against it.

...

The dramatic rise of the sharp steeple cut a edgy silhouette against the night sky. Ciel had been watching the building for a while now, his hazy eye focusing in and out on it. He had seen it before, he was sure of it, and now he wasn't certain if he'd arrived here by accident, or if his subconscious had driven him here to safety.

With his hands stretched out in front of his body, Ciel stepped into the thick shrubbery that surrounded the fencing of the church grounds. Batting stubborn branches out of his way, some flew back and smacked him in the face, leaving light grazes across his frozen face. By now the temperature had dropped so much that he shook with every step. Something hard hit his calf and he collided with the knee-high iron fencing, flying over it with a muffled scream. His chest hit the wet dirt first, and his head followed quickly, his nose slapping painfully against the soil, clogging his nostrils.

"Shit," he swore loudly, then quickly clamped his hands over his mouth, giggling between his fingers, trying to kick his unlaced boots free of where they had caught on the fencing. Deeming it far too difficult for the current state that he was in, Ciel slipped free of his boots and shakily got to his feet, his socks soaking up the soppy mud beneath him.

Sebastian's cottage wasn't difficult to find in the moonlight, the tall but humble garden house shrouded in the dark. There were no lights on, not surprisingly. It was almost half past four.

"Sebastian," Ciel mumbled deliriously, shuffling over to the brick building. His fists hit the door as he fell against it, his lungs heaving as he took in cold, night air. "Sebastian," he said louder, his voice thick with illusion. This time he knocked weakly, scraping his nails over the wood of the door. "It's cold," he whispered, as if the man could hear him.

Just as he thought he might fall asleep leaning against the door, he heard a shuffling from behind the wood, and turning of the handle as it unlocked. Stepping back Ciel watched as the door was slowly opened, and a bleary Sebastian poked his head out from inside his cottage. He was holding a small candle, and was dressed in a loose night clothes, and Ciel laughed softly at it.

"Ciel?!" Came a hushed whisper, Sebastian's eyes widening as he took in the appearance of the battered boy. Ciel was covered in mud and grime, and there was a small tear in his shirt. The boy's shoes were missing, and their were tiny grazes marring his otherwise perfect skin. Worry overcame the priest and he quickly took the smaller boy's arm, tugging him close to him. "What are you doing here? You're freezing," he said, his voice high with worry. "Did you get into some kind of trouble?" His warm, crimson eyes were illuminated by the flickering light of the candle, and Ciel frowned, too many English words flying at him at once for him to even begin to understand what was just said. Sticking out his bottom lip he said the only thing that came to mind.

"Yes."

...

Sebastian's cottage was always warm. A dull fire was lit at the fireplace, smoldering and heating the two inhabitants, and perhaps a third, furry creature hiding once more under the bed. The only other light was the lit candle on the dresser, which cast eerie shadows over the horrible floral wallpaper. Ciel was sitting on the box at the foot of Sebastian's bed, his head lolling back bonelessly. His vision swam as Sebastian kneeled in front of him, unbuttoning the remains of Ciel's torn and dirty shirt. Occasionally Ciel would lift his hands and try help, but his clumsy fumbled was only brushed away by Sebastian, who told him to sit still.

After removing his shirt, and the soaking muddy socks, Sebastian took in the hazed look of Ciel's one eye. He cupped his hand against the boy's face, and Ciel leaned into it, letting out a trembling sigh. He rubbed against the hand and grabbed onto Sebastian's wrist, stroking the pale flesh beneath his grotty hands.

"What did you take, Ciel?" Sebastian asked, slipping the edges of Ciel's suspenders down and off his shoulders. The question hardly registered to the boy, and he whined as the hand was taken from his face. "Did someone give you something?" Sebastian asked, lifting the boy up in his arms so he could unbutton his damp pants and peel them off his trembling legs.

"So strong," came a little French slur, and Ciel clung onto Sebastian's arms as he was undressed, his knees limp and his feet dragging against the floor. He squeezed Sebastian's bicep and made a shocked sound, his eye lidding with pleasure. Ciel's pants hit the floor, and the sound of coins hit the wooden floor of the cottage. Placing Ciel back down onto the blanket box, Sebastian fished a small handful of coins out from the soggy pockets. Six golden coins shone in the priest's hand, decorated with foreign text and images.

"Did you take opium?" Sebastian frowned, placing the pile of coins up on the dresser. Ciel frowned and reached out his hand for them, but his naked body was too tired to move. Instead, upon hearing the name of the drug, he gave a forlorn nod.

"Who gave it to you Ciel?" Sebastian's voice was patient and low, and he placed Ciel's dirty clothes in a small wicker basket. They would need to be washed. When he turned back around to the young prostitute, Ciel had brought his hand up to his eye. With one finger he pulled the skin on the side of his eye outwards until his eye slitted. He blinked sleepily, and an unusual laugh escaped his mouth. The sound was new and pretty to Sebastian.

"The Chinese?" Sebastian kept up the one sided conversation as he collected a small bowl of water, dousing a cloth in it. Coming to once again kneel before Ciel, he dabbed the wet cloth across his body. Ciel fidgeted in discomfort, but a large hand on his knee stilled him.

"Chinese," Ciel repeated, very thickly, staring down into the priest's kind eyes. _Why are you helping me?_ He thought, touching at the big hand that rested on his knee. His thin fingers wrapped around the hand and he held it weakly, until he felt Sebastian squeeze back. He let out another weird laugh and an odd smile spread out across his face. Sebastian smiled when the boy laughed, his unusual behavior amusing him. He rubbed the boy's smaller hand in his own, and held it for his comfort.

By the time Sebastian finished cleaning Ciel's battered body, the sun was already rising on the horizon, creating a weird dawn glow in the cottage. The priest had found a shirt of his own to put on Ciel, who had chuckled when the garment came all the way down to his thighs. He was then offered a spot in Sebastian's neatly made bed, and the boy's eye widened. Crawling onto the thick blankets, Ciel's knees sunk into the expensive mattress. He cried out in such a way that it made Sebastian blush darkly and turn his head.

"Feather mattress," Ciel whispered in a husky voice, pressing his tired body down into the soft covers. His eyes lidded instantly, and if Sebastian hadn't pulled back the covers and tucked Ciel's lanky legs inside, he would have fallen asleep right on top of them.

"Goodnight Ciel," Sebastian said, bringing the blankets safely over the boy's pale body, which had been blue with the cold earlier that night. He was glad the boy had found his way to him, as he wasn't sure how well he would have fared on his own.

"Bonsoir, Sebastian," came a sleep-thick, mumbled answer, as Ciel finally stilled, letting his body succumb to sleep. Only when he was sure the boy was resting soundly, Sebastian pulled away and pushed Ciel's hair back, tucking it neatly behind his head. In the rising morning light the flesh around Ciel's face was illuminated, and a faint hue of pink could be seen peeking out from the corners of Ciel's eye patch. Softly and tentatively he pressed his thumb against the pink flesh, and frowned when he felt it to be hot. Infection. Removing his hand Sebastian sighed, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. With the sun now flitting softly through the curtains, he knew he couldn't ponder any longer on Ciel's covered eye. It was time for work. So with one last look to the sleeping prostitute, tucked warmly in his bed, Sebastian stepped away and proceeded to ready himself for morning mass.

...

Ciel had never slept this well in his entire life.

He had slept well until mid-morning, the rising sun not bothering him a bit as it shone upon his sleeping body. When Sebastian had come home from his duties, he wasn't surprised to see the small teenager still sound asleep, and he'd prepared a cup of tea quietly and sat by the bed, watching over him. He was still curious about the infection surrounding Ciel's eye, but it would be rude and invasive to do anything about it while the boy slept.

Ciel wasn't like the other women he had helped back home in America. They had been lost, desperate, they practically threw themselves at his knees and begged for his help. It was easy to provide. The system he had set up within his local church assisted young prostitutes with a warm place to sleep, with somewhere to wash their dirty clothes, and with somewhere to find food and clean water. In return, the women would help with small chores, until they were able to find a job out in the real world. It was always terribly rewarding to Sebastian whenever he saw a young lady leave his program, on the way to a better life. He was often thanked with fresh fruit or baked hampers from grateful women, who had completely turned their lives around.

Ciel, unlike these women, was proud of what he did. He was different and guarded, and hardly wanted Sebastian's help. In fact, when the boy had come to him, asking to be saved, the priest was quite certain that it was partly for amusement. But, it wasn't hard to read the sadness in the boy's eye, and Sebastian was also assured that the boy _wanted_ to believe that something better existed, but didn't want to raise his hopes too high.

After his cup of tea, Sebastian cleaned up and then went over to examine the wash basket of dirty clothes he had removed from Ciel that morning. Picking up the damp fabric in his hands he examined it closely, noting that it was beyond repair. While Sebastian wasn't rich, and his job as a priest wasn't paid, he was still provided with fineries such as tailored clothes and a small allowance to do with as he pleased. He had also saved a small amount of money for his trip overseas, which he had saved for a rainy day. He knew now that if he wanted to help Ciel, updating his wardrobe would have to be the first step.

...

Ciel woke around persistent winter sun flooded his sleepy eye as he blinked, his eyelashes brushing over his warm cheek. His mouth opened in a hearty yawn and he stretched his whole body, his toes pointing down into the thick blankets that encased him. _He was warm_. That was the first thing that fully awoke him. Sitting up as fast as he could, Ciel was startled to see he wasn't in his own bedroom. He was laying in a large bed, a soft bed, unlike the lumpy thing he owned. The room was warm and cozy, as a fire smoldered in the fireplace. Sunlight fell through a curtained window, and a pleasant smell tickled his sense. His throat burned and his head throbbed, and he was quickly reminded of his escapades the night before.

With a groan Ciel let his head rest in his hands, cursing himself. _What was I thinking? _He hissed angrily. _Now where am I?! _It was when a baritone grumble from his left side alerted his attention that Ciel suddenly realized where he had wound up. Sebastian's cottage looked very different in the light of day.

Sebastian himself, however, was laying beside him, fast asleep. The giant was sleeping on his back, his large feet almost reaching the end of the bed, his arms crossed peacefully over his chest. He was dressed in a black robe, with the stiff white collar. Ciel thought it was unusual that the man was fully dressed, and sleeping beside him. Unknowingly to Ciel, Sebastian had actually gotten so tired of waiting for the boy to awake, that he'd decided to take a small nap beside the boy.

Ciel smiled faintly, taking in the priest's face. During his nap, the man's hair had fallen back from his face, framing his pale head. With his eyelashes shut his face was even paler, with only the thick, lashy lines to cut up the snow-like expanse of his perfect skin. His lips were slightly parted, open as calm breath escaped from his mouth. His breath smelt like tea leaves, Ciel observed quietly, suddenly realising that he was leaning right over the man, their faces merely centimeters from one another's. It would be so easy to lean in and steal a kiss from the most handsome man Ciel had ever met, but he didn't.

Sebastian was pure and beautiful, and Ciel couldn't bring himself to taint a dirty kiss across his sleeping perfection. _He deserves more than that_, Ciel thought sadly, sitting back to look down at the resting priest. It was strange, and played silently at the back of Ciel's mind that he may of in fact made a friend. _But does he only pity me? _He asked himself, frowning and letting his eyes wash over the big, bony hands of his companion. Whatever the answer was, Ciel's cock was stiff, and was rubbing against his leg impatiently. The boy's face darkened and he shifted his hand under the blankets, grabbing his erection roughly. He almost cried out as his hand made contact with his burning skin, last night's denied orgasm begging to be released. He looked down at Sebastian and whined, knowing he couldn't do this in a priest's bed, with a priest sleeping beside him. But his cock throbbed and uncontrollable shivers racked their way up Ciel's naked legs, making his eye droop headily and his legs spread.

"Please forgive me father," he muttered in French the sleeping beauty beside him, "for I am about to sin." He smirked proudly at his witty words, but it was wiped off his face as he fisted his sore dick, a gasp of pure pleasure kept within his throat. His mind reeled and dirty sounds fell from his lips without his permission, seemingly like shouts in the small, silent bedroom. "F-fuck," he swore, one hand flying out and gripping the bed sheets as the other fisted quickly up and down his cock. His eyes fell on Sebastian and a shiver raced through his body, so strong that his back arched and his mouth fell open.

"Sebastian," he moaned softly, shoving his face into his arm to silence himself. His eyes looked down to Sebastian's hands, and he found himself bringing his own hand down to his quivering hole. As he rutted his finger up against the puckered flesh, he imagined it was Sebastian's great, big finger, and he let out a guttural moan. With frustration he fidgeted, knowing his thin finger would ruin the illusion of having Sebastian's in his ass, so he whipped his head around, searching for something, anything, that he could use in place of his little finger.

His hand reached shakily to the bedside table and he pulled open the top draw, his hand fumbling blindly inside of it. His hand wrapped around something with a shaft the girth of one of Sebastian's fingers, and he removed it triumphantly. Bringing the object up to his face Ciel's heart leaped as he realised it was a wooden crucifix, with an ornate Jesus carved upon it. Unable to give a damn in his current arousal, Ciel smirked and pushed the Jesus cross down and under the sheets, lifting his legs a little so he could bring the varnished end up to his needy ass.

Ciel slapped the headboard in excitement as he slipped the tip of the crucifix up into himself. His eye rolled sharply into the back of his head, and he could barely see past his thick eyelashes. He moaned the priest's name softly again, gripping the head board tighter as he shoved the length up into his ass, writhing at how easily it made his dick drip.

"Mon dieu, Sebastian!" He cried out desperately, grunting and panting as the crucifix slid in and out of his clamping hole. He rocked his hips against it eagerly, imaging it was Sebastian's middle finger. He even slipped the wooden cross roughly against his inner walls, knowing that if Sebastian ever fingered him, he'd be clumsy, inexperienced. The thought of a long finger jabbing his insides roughly made him tremble, and he bit down on his lip so hard he felt that it might bleed. He felt his orgasm approach quickly, embarrassingly so, and he whimpered loudly as he begged for the priest, trying to keep his voice low as moans were squeezed from his throat against his will. He squeezed his eye shut as he shook on the bed, his fingers fumbling as he tried to shove the holy cross further into his body, the polished tip smashing up against his prostate. It was far too hot, too much, and just before he came he opened his good eye, revealing two crimson eyes staring right back at him.

"Ciel, are you okay?!" Sebastian breathed, his hand clamped around the boy's arm, feeling it shake beneath his grip. Ciel let out a surprised scream when he saw the priest leaning over him, laced with a thick moan, as his hips jerked furiously beneath the heavy covers. He came uncontrollably at that moment, his body spasming against his will. Sebastian's eyes were wide with fright,and he cupped the boy's face and stroked his cheek softly.

"Ciel, stop! What's wrong?" Sebastian cried out again, his eyebrows knitted so lowly, his eyes looking up and down the boy's body, trying to source the reason of his obvious pain. The boy was drenched in sweat, his face was flushed and tense, his body shook as if he were having a fit, and on top of it all Ciel had been crying out for him desperately. Ciel seemed to come out of his frightful experience, and Sebastian cupped the boy's face closely and pushed his damp hair back from his face. "Are you okay?" He murmured, watching as Ciel's eye slowly focused to stare at his. The boy looked horrified and it tugged at Sebastian's heart, so he pulled the boy up softly to his chest. Rubbing his back softly with one arm, he felt the boy curl a shaky limb around his body, clinging onto him tightly.

"It's alright," Sebastian assured, his mouth close to Ciel's ear. "You're awake now, I'm here." Ciel curled up into his hard body, feeling his heart beat frantically against his, and when the horror of being discovered slowly removed itself from his features, a small smirk overcame his trembling lips. His hole twitched post-orgasm as he felt the wooden cross, abandoned, brush up against his thigh. His stomach was damp with his come, but he'd never felt better. Clutching onto the worried man before him, he felt guilty for causing him concern. Pulling back a little he looked Sebastian in the eye, rubbing his chest to calm him.

"Merci, Sebastian," he breathed genuinely. "I thought you'd never come."

...

**Updates on the 25th of each and every month.**


	8. Charity

**To all my gorgeous, _patient_, wonderful readers, I love you. Please be merciful. I've been having a lot of personal issues lately, and I've been feeling pretty shit about myself. Here is a meagre chapter, I am not worthy of your glorious affections! Leave love in that little review box and I'll try not to beat Ciel up too much in the next chapter. Or if you're into that let me know, _you little sadist_.**

**If you want all the latest information on when robovacation and I will be updating next, go like our Facebook page, there's a link on our Fanfiction profiles. Also, follow me on Tumblr. Besides from writing shitty Fanfiction, I also take shitty photos and draw shitty art. I'm really friendly and I won't bite (_anywhere that people can see_). If you ever want to post crap for me to see, just tag it as "little storm". You'll seriously make my day.**

**Like always, this chapter is dedicated to my girlfriend Michelle, who it the marimo ball to my aquarium. Float on, little green moss ball of love. I'm going to America in April, doing a road trip from LA to Canada. Little Australian in the states! ROBOVACATION AND LITTLE STORM MEET AT LAST.**

...

...

_Drip, drip, drip._

Sebastian's brow furrowed in exasperation as he turned his gaze upwards. Three consecutive droplets of water hit his fine floorboards, wetting the wood. He restrained a small sigh and turned his attention back to the book he cradled in his open palms. _A Beginners' Guide to French_. The book was worn and old, a donated item he'd found amongst the church's library. Several pages were dog-eared and yellowed, but Sebastian read from each studiously, eager to learn as much as he could.

_Contrariété, noun. Annoyance, irritation. _

Sebastian read the word aloud in his head, and then spoke it gently, under his breath, letting his lips grow accustomed to the foreign word. _Contrariété_, he spoke softly again.

_Drip, drip, drip._

Sebastian's concentration broke and he flicked his eyes up once more, twitching slightly as the water marred his polished floors. The driplets fell from pale shoulders reclined against the edge of a bath tub, long tendrils of dark hair curling and falling over the porcelain lip. More droplets formed from the tips of the slate hair, falling to the floor, much to Sebastian's silent vexation.

"Ciel," he finally spoke, shutting his book, his thumb a temporary marker. "I heated that water for you, and filled that tub for you, and you thank me by dripping it all over the floor?" He made a small _tsk_ sound between his teeth, watching as the boy's head arched back dramatically, resulting in more water trickling to the floor. Ciel's hair was pushed away from his face, the edges of his eye patch damp from the cooling bath water. He has refused to remove it when asked to undress; the _crucifix_ incident had been embarrassing enough.

"Forgive me, Father" Ciel muttered, a lopsided grin forming on his mouth as he hung his head backwards, staring at an up-side-down priest. He let the smouldering cigarette between his lips roll to the corner of his mouth as he used both hands to collect his long hair into a temporary bun.

"Is that a _cigarette_?" Sebastian asked incredulously, his thumb slipping from between the pages of his book so he could stand. The smile fell right from Ciel's face as he saw the man rise, the sound of his pant legs brushing against each other as he stepped over to the bath and looked down on the soaking prostitute. With a quick tug Sebastian grabbed the burning smoke, regarding it with disgust as he quickly stepped over to his kitchenette, squishing the remains of the butt onto a porcelain plate. "Smoking is a filthy habit Ciel."

The one eyed boy followed the priest's movements around the room, but he hardly understood a word the man said. Instead he simply stared at him, sucking the side of his cheek in to numb the loss of his tobacco. He sunk further into the bath tub, letting his hair hit the lukewarm water and spread like little tentacles across the surface of the water. He propped one leg up against the floor of the bath, and his other slid out of the edge, several drops landing on Sebastian's precious flooring. Ciel swore he could see a tiny vein pop out on the priest's brow, but his annoyance was quickly consumed by something else.

"_For goodness sake Ciel_, have you no shame?" Sebastian hissed, snapping his head to look in the opposite direction. His legs spread due to his relaxed position, Ciel's laugh sent a ripple across the water.

"No," he spat with mirth. "I'm a prostitute!" His laughter was loud and rang out in the tiny apartment, making Sebastian blush a darker shade of embarrassment. Water sloshed as Ciel dragged his leg back into the bath, drawing his knees to his chest as his giggle died out into a faint snicker. "Not job for shameful," he teased, his eyes on the clergyman's back as he returned to the round table and picked up his book again. Interest snared, Ciel rolled in the tub until he was lying on his stomach, crossing his arms over the lip of the tub and resting his chin against them.

"What reading?" He asked, curiosity sparked as Sebastian concentrated heavily on the pages.

"I'm learning French," he replied, not taking his eyes off the pages, his lips moving minutely as he read the words before him. Ciel frowned, pushing his wet hair from his face and slicking it back. He opened his mouth to speak, but Sebastian beat him to it. "You don't speak English very well, and I thought it would help us communicate better."

Ciel was offended; his lip fell dramatically as he stared daggers at the priest. "I speak well English!" He rebutted, raising his chin. To be truthful he hadn't understood _half_ of what the older man had just said, but he had heard enough to know he felt insulted. Sebastian only twitched his lip, the signs of a well restrained smile. Without looking away from his book, his hand reached across and picked up the knife that sat beside the remnants of his lunch.

"What's this?" He asked coolly, dancing the silver blade in the air.

"It's knife," Ciel spat back venomously, his pout feral. Sebastian shrugged, seemingly defeated as he placed the utensil back down on the table. That was until he picked up the fork that lay beside it, and waved it slightly before Ciel's eyes.

"And what's this?"

Ciel's expression switched from irritation to a smug look of satisfaction as he purred out his answer, eyebrows raised triumphantly. "Spoon."

...

The air was warm when Ciel left Sebastian's small cottage, any traces of snow had melted into mush, soaking the ground with a humid mud. Ciel's boots slugged through the dirt as he hopped over the back fence, emerging onto an empty alley that opposed nothing but a deserted lot.

It was early afternoon, and the sun that bore down on his back was the first real warmth Paris was embraced with since the coming of winter. Ciel slung his coat over his shoulder, enjoying the temperature, never minding the slight nip of icy air that stained his nose and fingers red. Sebastian had rubbed some fragrant oil into his hair earlier, and he pushed his nose into the strands that collected on his collar.

The shirt he wore was several sizes too large, the sleeves hanging past his wrists and the sides billowing in the cold air. It was Sebastian's; the fine fabric smelt of the man himself, and a trace of soap. It was another reason Ciel continued to press his nose into his collar. His own shirt had been too damaged by the mud the previous night, but it had been beyond repair before that too. Ciel only owned two simple shirts, and one pair of pants, and delighted in how clean his borrowed shirt was.

Oh his way home Ciel stopped to buy tobacco and tea, using the money he had earned from the Chinese last night. The scent of opium still burnt his throat, but he didn't remember the incident at all. He was just pleased to have pocketed a few coins, and a tip, it seemed.

Arriving home Ciel removed the shirt of Sebastian's, folding it carefully over the edge of his mattress. He grimaced at the straw stuffed surface and thought wistfully of the bed the priest slept in. Undoubtedly he'd find more excuses to spend the night. Budging open his window with the swell of his hip, Ciel perched himself on the sill, rolling a cigarette with the new supplies he had purchased. It was cold, but he didn't want smoke to mar the pretty fragrance that graced his new apparel. Things of such beauty didn't often enter his life.

...

Lying was something Sebastian assumed he was never capable of. Not once had he ever lied, not throughout his childhood. Not even to his God-fearing parents, and yet here he was, lying. For the second time.

"The young lady seems reluctant to change, then?" Claude walked a few steps ahead of Sebastian, examining the roses that hugged the churches' outer walls. Hands clasped tightly behind his back, wringing his thumb, Sebastian lied some more, a pit widening further in his stomach.

"Not reluctant as such," he spoke, cupping the bud of one white rose into his nervous hands. "I believe _she_ wants to change, deep down." It was difficult to refer Ciel to a female, and he itched to tell the truth. _Would it be so terrible to reveal that his burden was in fact a male_? With each lie he felt as if he dug himself deeper and deeper into a hole. There was a silence as the two men walked, pausing so often to look down at the roses. Sebastian had been gardening in his spare time, but the flowers were dying, simply too cold to keep up with the weather. It was remarkable that they had lasted this long, but their petals were hard to spot amongst the snowy grounds.

"Are their male prostitutes, Father?" The words slipped through Sebastian's lips before he could think twice, and the rose he held in his palm slid out of his grasp. Immediately regretting his question, he dared raise his gaze to Claude's expression. The taller male's expression was calm, and it confused the younger priest a little.

"There are women who will pay a man for his time and services," Claude spoke, his golden eyes downcast and thoughtful. "Rare, but not unheard of."

Sebastian nodded, but his mind reeled impatiently. With each second he lingered, his heart beating faster and faster. "It's not exactly what I meant," he muttered, grasping Claude's attention. "What I meant to ask, is if there are men who sleep with _other men_, for money."

Broken petals hit the ground as the torn remains of Claude's rose was discarded ungracefully. The look on his face was stone cold, unmoving, bare for the raise of his lip as he grimaced in disgust. Sebastian froze and stared at his superior, heart in his throat.

"Yes," the word was spoken as if it had physically burnt Claude. Sebastian knew now that this had been a terrible idea, and wished he had kept quiet, even if it meant continuing to lie. A sexual relationship between two men was never spoken of, a sin so deep it was never said out loud.

"There is one particular _cockroach_ that sells his services to the pigs of society," Claude ground out.

"Just the one?" Sebastian enquired, hoping not to push his luck. Claude nodded, locking eyes with the smaller priest.

"Ciel Phantomhive," Claude spat. Sebastian's eyes widened and his throat went dry. So he hadn't been boasting, _Ciel really was the only homosexual prostitute in Paris._

"Disgusting, really. I'm surprised he hasn't been _stamped out_ yet. Vermin of his kind are below _dirt_. I'm shocked you hadn't heard of him before, he certainly has a reputation."

"I don't know much of anything around here," said Sebastian softly, the lie feeling heavy on his tongue. He licked his dry lips and cast his gaze to the roses once more, absorbing everything he had learnt. He couldn't believe how close he had been to revealing Ciel's identity to his superior. Surely he'd be removed from this church, perhaps even the country? Sebastian gulped, his stiff collar suddenly feeling too tight around his throat.

"Unfortunately his sins are legal in the eyes of the law, but not in the eyes of God." Claude fixed his glasses and pushed a stray strand of hair back from his face, his anger quelling. Sebastian tried to look concerned, and his anxiety supposedly reflected that expression. Father Faustus gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder, squeezing it gently.

"Your work here is greatly appreciated here, Michaelis. The more of these girls we can rescue from the streets, the more hope we have of saving fair Paris from the demise it faces." His deep, golden stare seemed to cut through any wall surrounding Sebastian's mind, and he passed by him solemnly. "But do not waste any pity on the ones not even God can save."

...

Not too far from Ciel's apartment there is a tavern called _Le Majordome Noir_. The old building is as dodgy and lower-class as the men inside, the two story shack leaning unevenly on its rotting neighbours. Barrels piled against the bricks outside, the sound of glass and gruff, unattractive laughter. Women cheaper than the liquor being served congregated around the trash cans. Men who had finished their long shifts, gathering to share a glass of the worst beer in Paris.

Ciel didn't drink, unless of course, his client was buying. Yet he found himself, on most nights of the week hanging outside of Le Majordome Noir, hoping to find a customer or two. The cobble beneath his boots was ripe with the stench of spilt beer, a smell which Ciel couldn't differentiate between piss. He'd left Sebastian's clean shirt at home, folded safely under his mattress, changing into his own. It was off-white, and frayed around the buttons, and the cold stung him harsher when he wore it. The stolen jacket he wrapped around his shoulders was hugged close to his chest as he paced the outskirts of the building, keeping himself warm.

The night sky was clear, but frost crept in on the tavern, coaxing cold clouds from the lips of the drunk. Ciel shooed off two young women as he huddled in the alley closest to the entry of the bar, his infamous eye patch chasing them away. Their cinched waists and pushed out breasts no match for Ciel's reputation in this area. He was rather popular here, even if he did leave feeling as dirty as the men who had fucked him.

Shrugging off the shoulder of his coat a little, Ciel leaned up against the damp brick walls, waiting the men who entered or left the bar. Opening the first few buttons on his shirt, Ciel peeled back the fabric, letting his shoulder show to whoever may pass. The cold air nipped violently at his pale skin and he flinched, letting out a shuddered breath. The winter was getting harsher with each and every night. Leaning over, Ciel fumbled with the rolled smoke he had hugged in the folds of his boot, and brought it to his lips, lighting a cigarette that warmed his hands for a mere moment. His eyes caught those of a passing man, but the stranger bowed his head and fastened his pace.

Pretty women with painted faces wandered up and down the streets, lingering in alleys and windows and shadows, their eyes dark and their smiles promising. Offering love for a night, for the change in your wallet. Ciel didn't hold the same allure as they, but his competition was steep. Ciel boasted _a night in heaven_, and he certainly never disappointed. Clients were harder to come by, but they were loyal, and word travelled fast. For a boy, he'd made it far in the underworld.

A lower-class lady passed by him, her eyes shifting nervously to look. She kept her distance, but a single word was muttered under her breath as she passed. _Slut_. Ciel had heard the word so many times that he felt nothing for it anymore. It was mere seconds later that he felt eyes on him again, and a larger body approach his own.

"Well well well, if it isn't the little street _rat_."

A tall, thin shadow approached Ciel from the depths of the shadows, his familiar voice sending a shiver down the smaller's spine. Ciel didn't bother turning, instead he rolled his eyes into the back of his head and let out a small groan.

"To what do I owe the displeasure, Sutcliffe?" He drawled, smashing the butt of his cigarette into the wall beside him, a satisfying hiss as he extinguished it on the cool stone. Finally turning to face the man behind him, Ciel was confronted with an old enemy.

Grell Sutcliffe stood at least a foot taller than Ciel, his demeanour dramatised by his poisonous chartreuse eyes. The very sight of the red-headed man was enough to make Ciel's heart rise from his chest to his throat, but he kept his expression calm, and a cocky smirk flitted across his lips. Grell curled his lip and slitted his eyes, not bothering to hide his disdain for the other.

"I thought we'd made it very clear we didn't want to see you here again," said Grell, who folded his arms across his thin chest. He took an intimidating step closer to Ciel, until his mouth loomed over the boy. Ciel stared up at him defiantly, pressing himself as close to the wall as possible. He gave a small, nervous laugh, pressing his hand up against Grell's chest, trying to push him back.

"I have every right to be here," muttered Ciel, staring right into the other's eyes. "It's not my problem if your _whore_ can't earn her keep." The flash of rage in the taller's eyes was enough for a triumphant _tch_ from the younger. Sliding his hand from its place in Grell's coat, Ciel pushed it upwards until it collected in the crimson strands of the taller's tight pony tail. He twirled the hair in a small circle, letting it wind around his finger. "Besides, who would want some shrivelled, wilting flower," Ciel whispered, fisting the strands into his palm, tugging on it like a leash, bringing Grell's face down closer to his own. His lips grazed the ruby earring set into the man's ear before he ground out seductively "when they could have _me_?"

Grell's eyes flashed darkly and suddenly Ciel found his wrist in a tight, gloved grasp, his small body being flung against the brick wall violently, his head colliding with the brick, a sick **thud **ricocheting in his head. He let out a small groan, only to have his own hair tugged harshly, his neck bared as he was forced to look up at his attacker.

"You'd do well not to talk of her in that tone," Grell growled under his breath, taking deep satisfaction in the alarm that spread itself across his prey's features. He tightened his fist until he felt a few strands of Ciel's slate hair rip from his scalp, and then he released him, letting him stumble forward until he brought back his gloved hand and slammed his fist into the younger's jaw. He grinned dangerously as he watched Ciel's head snap back in the opposite direction, and a shocked cry fell from the little prostitute's mouth. Before he had a chance to breathe Ciel was on his knees, and a boot was stamped repeatedly into his ribs. He gasped out as he felt the wind leave his body, and his palms flattened as he stopped himself falling face first into the trash. His body felt as if it were on fire, and he watched the ground fade in and out from darkness as he tried to focus on his own hands. Ignoring the searing pain in his ribs, Ciel spat a gob of blood onto the pavement below him.

"How romantic, a pimp who's in love with his whore," Ciel whispered, before having his smirk smacked right from his lips. He was pushed up and tossed back down to the ground, a heavy boot pressed down onto his chest. Ciel lifted his hands to push the appendage from him, but he was helpless. Iron lingered on the back of his tongue, and something wet dripped past his eye. Grell looked down at him, his neat hair fallen out of place due to the exertion. Blocking out the moonlight, all Ciel would see of him were the heavy puffs of white air he breathed from his nose and his lips.

"This is Mademoiselle Rouge's street," Grell warned, grinding his boot into Ciel until the boy whimpered.

"We don't want to see you here again."

Ciel wasn't sure if Grell had left before or after he blacked out, but when he came to he was pushed against the edges of the street walls, half buried in old newspaper and putrid cloth. The first thing that hit him was the cold, closing in on him so violently he could barely breathe. His coat was gone, stolen, and his thin shirt was soaked through with frost. He couldn't feel the ends of his fingers, and when he finally sucked in a pained, shuddering breath, he was struck with the arresting trauma of the bruises that dotted his thin body.

Curling onto his side Ciel tried to push himself up, his long hair sticking to the stone beneath him in a mixture of sop and blood. He could feel the coagulated remains of his wounds sticking to the side of his face, and he scraped back his hair with mud-caked fingernails. He couldn't remember a time in his life where he had ever felt so low, but he didn't want to think back that far. Confrontations from rival prostitutes were often settled by the police, and they were each assigned their own streets to crawl. Grell Sutcliffe's whores didn't adhere to the law however, especially not his prized show dog, Madame Red. Ciel assumed she was the most profitable and favourable whore in all of Paris, and it wasn't the first time Ciel had been threatened by her pimp. Not only was Ciel a nuisance, but he was also worthy competition.

Ciel managed to prop himself against the stone wall, balancing all his weight onto it. His numb fingers brushed over the folds of his boots but all of his cigarettes were gone. _Not that he was surprised_. Shuffling along the sludgy walls, Ciel started to make his way home.

...

Ciel kept the rusted, ornate key to his apartment in a concealed pocket in his eye patch. He had been robbed several times in the past, but he'd taken extra steps to protect his little abode. Without the key to gain entry it was near impossible to access the two story cement house, unless you scaled the walls to the shoddy window 10 foot off the ground. The tallest person Ciel knew was Sebastian, and even that lanky giant couldn't touch the sill if he jumped.

There was another entrance to his home, a gap beneath his front door. As Ciel unlocked his apartment, he came to realise that perhaps Sebastian didn't need to be tall to infiltrate his home. Shoved neatly under the foot high gap of his door, Ciel found a brown paper parcel, with a small note attached to the front. The intricate hand writing could only belong to the priest himself. After his ordeal tonight, Ciel couldn't help the comical smile that spread over his blood-smeared face. Bundling the parcel into his arms, Ciel took it upstairs as if it were a baby.

With no coat to hang by the door, Ciel slipped his dirty, bloody shirt off his shoulders and dumped it in a wooden bowl that sat on the floor, placed there to catch drips from a leak in the ceiling. He'd wash it in the collected water when the sun rose. His boots were kicked off and lined at the end of his bed, his bare feet rubbed raw from the wet leather. Sitting himself carefully on the edge of his bed, Ciel brought Sebastian's gift into his lap and let his fingers crinkle the thick paper excitedly. Removing the note carefully Ciel let his eyes skim over the words, only recognising his own name. Even if he could understand the English words written on the paper, it wouldn't help the fact that Ciel couldn't read.

Ciel didn't rip at the paper. He unfastened the twine that held the package together, and then slid the paper apart carefully, moving it to the side so he could use it later. Removing his gift, Ciel's eye widened as he appreciated the crisp, clean, flawlessly new shirt he held in his dirty hands. Terrified of staining it, he sat it quickly on the bed, appreciating it from above.

"Sebastian, you idiot," he breathed, a laugh suddenly escaping his mouth. His ribs ached at the sudden exclamation, but he laughed again, pushing his fingers into the mattress, unable to contain his joy. He felt tears prick the back of his eye as he realised that beneath the shirt lay a folded pair of tailored pants, just like the shirt it was breath-takingly new. He'd never owned something _new_ in his entire life. He had never felt so lucky.

With great care, Ciel folded the garments back into their paper packaging, and he stashed them beneath his mattress, alongside Sebastian's borrowed shirt. He stretched out onto his mattress, in nothing but his damp and dirty pants, still caked in blood and grime, too tired to clean himself off. He could deal with that when there was sunshine again. Angry red welts mapped his prominent ribs and arms, and with he knew that with sunrise there would be purple blotches there to replace them. Once again, something he could face when there was light back in his life.

...

**Review or Sebastian dies from the black plague in the next chapter.**

**...**

**Just kidding. Review and I'll upload Pet Shop on Valentine's day.**


	9. Temperance

**WOW. This chapter is like 10,000 fucking words long. It's not even good, it's pretty much 10,000 words describing how sensitive and caring Sebastian is. It's a mother fucking romance novel for middle-aged housewives. BUT SERIOUSLY READ THE JUNK BELOW, IT'S ACTUALLY IMPORTANT. **

**So, here's the deal. In four weeks I'll be hoping on a plane and meeting robovacation for the first time ever. I will not be writing in that period, except for an update on April 9****th****, which is neither La Petite Mort, Pet Shop, nor Black Bull. After that however, I will be MIA, along with the lovely robovacation herself. Please feel free to follow us on Tumblr and Facebook, there are links on both of our Fanfiction pages. We will be uploading many pictures and updating you guys on our adventures and such as we travel. Before I leave, however, I will be updating Pet Shop and La Petite Mort once more.**

**If you follow me on Tumblr please ask me question. I'm aware that I come across as cold, scary and mean but in all honesty I'm just a daggy idiot who is too socially retarded to form replies to people unless they're written in formal prose. The evil one is actually robovacation, and she is going to write a heterosexual sex scene in her next chapter if you don't review my fic. OK GO.**

…

_And I saw God cry in the reflection of my enemies, __  
><em>_and all the lovers with no time for me._

_And all of the mother's raises their babies to stay away from me, __  
><em>_and hope they grow up to be..._

…_.._

The boy was awake before the sun.

Seated steadily upon the window sill, Ciel bowed his back to the morning light as the first heat of day warmed his frosted skin. Numb nails fumbled for a light as he cradled an unlit cigarette in the palm of his hand, trying bitterly to ignore the frigid air that nipped his fragile fingertips. A pathetic puff of air was visibly expelled from Ciel's mouth as he greeted the world with a grimace, legs half hung out his bedroom window like every other mundane morning.

Last night's attack had left little room for an undisturbed sleep. Thrice Ciel was throttled awake by the violent aching in his abdomen, a gut-wrenching pain that had him curled tightly in the fetal position until fatigue pulled him back under. The unforgiving cold, although persistent and relentless, had rattled his small structure until the rise of dawn, where he had discovered a stinging nose and numb toes. His raw fingers had found purchase in his pillowcase, a sorry sack of stuffed straw, and he had clutched to it, willing the cold and the pain to leave. When the first fingers of light tickled his spine, he had followed gratefully to his frosted window panes.

Still playing with the unused cigarette, Ciel eyed his most recent possessions, which he had neatly laid out on the bed. The new clothes, courtesy of Sebastian, were a stark contrast to the dull and decaying innards of his apartment. Their pressed purity seemed so fragile that Ciel feared wearing the clothes would taint them. However, it was cold, and they were clean, and the boy itched to try them on. Placing his forgotten cigarette on the top of a book pile, Ciel shuffled out of his thin jeans, discarding them with distaste, in hopes he'd never wear them again.

The leak in Ciel's roof had provided him with a tin of ice cold water, filled almost to the brim. With the smallest stump of soap he had managed to salvage from someone else's garbage, Ciel worked a small lather between his palms, and rubbed at the grit that caked his skin. Dirt was packed beneath his nails and into the grazes on his knees, caked over the injuries Grell Sutcliffe had given him. His pale waist was littered with discolored, spreading bruises, sore to the touch when the boy had washed around them carefully. With the last of his suds, Ciel tousled his slate hair, working the soap through the lengthy locks. After rinsing his hair with the collected water, Ciel reclaimed his place upon his sill, legs crook and naked as he finally lit his first smoke of the day.

...

Frost-bitten lips turned up in a smile as Ciel spied a tuft of black hair a-top the endless stream of holiday shoppers. Sebastian stood at least a foot taller than the rest of the Parisians and wasn't hard to miss, especially with a face like that. Waiting in their usual meeting place, the tall man was wrapped head to toe in black, paling his skin to such extremes that the recent snow fall yellowed in his presence. Nipping the butt of his cigarette Ciel let out a longing sigh, followed by a gaze of unrequited lust. _It should be illegal to be so handsome_, Ciel crooned, sucking in his breath as Sebastian's eyes searched for him.

"Long for me," Ciel demanded hopefully, smashing his smoke on the wet walls beside him. "I should be so lucky." With a nervous lick to his dry lips Ciel tugged the fold of his scarf higher to his cheekbones, hoping to cover the hideous discoloration Grell had disgraced his face with. The clothes Sebastian had brought him fit near perfectly, hugging his slim waist and thighs and accentuating his thin limbs. Luckily his stolen coat wasn't too shabby, and the boy considered he may blend in with this passing crowd of pedestrians.

Sebastian spied the unusual shade of slate hair as soon as it stepped amongst the crowd. His bright gaze followed the boy as he pressed through the sea of bodies and finally emerged onto the sidewalk, where the two finally caught eyes. Instantly Ciel dropped his shoulders, raised his chin and brought forth his hips in a synchronized movement. A smug smirk spread across his mouth and he sauntered towards Sebastian, pausing a few feet away to give a full circle spin on the ball of his foot. His coat opened against his lithe chest and the new clothes were presented proudly, and Sebastian gave a small applause.

"Well don't you look handsome," he praised happily, sending a smattering of pink across Ciel's cheeks. The priest approached him and gave an appreciative stare down at the new clothes, crimsons irises flicking from the boy's throat to his belt line. Ciel felt himself swallow under the close gaze the man of his dreams was delivering, and allowed his one eye to capture the crease in Sebastian's forehead, the dramatic arch of his eyebrow, the way his eyelashes kissed his milky skin each time he blinked.

"Merci," Ciel released the breath he had been holding, regaining his senses when the older man moved back a little. "I love," he said, running his bare fingers over the buttons on his shirt, giving Sebastian a grateful smile, whilst hoping his dramatic blush could be blamed on the cold. Sebastian watched the boy's hand move over his chest and then made a quick _oh_, hurriedly digging into his coat pocket to reveal a folded bundle of cloth.

"I got these for you too," he explained, handling over a pair of black, woolen gloves. Ciel took them quickly and pulled them over his lanky fingers, flexing his hand as he rubbed away the numb feeling in his digits. "The church has a small charity of donated clothing, I thought of you. You're so thin..." Sebastian trailed off, watching as Ciel admired the new garments, which were adorned with two pea-sized buttons on the back of the wrists.

"Clothes were charity too?" Ciel enquired, still interested in the gorgeous gloves. He missed when Sebastian shook his head.

"No, I paid for those with my own money," he answered in a low voice, to which Ciel looked up quickly. The boy had assumed as much, but hearing him confirm it made his heart leap into his throat. He struggled to find something to say but settled with an awkward smile that heated the tips of his ears. Sebastian couldn't quiet meet the gaze of the grateful boy either and shyly turned his head. An odd silence settled between the two of them until Ciel reached over and made a loose fist over Sebastian's much larger hand.

"Come, let us go," Ciel urged, giving a tug to the priest's hand. He seemed to snap out of his embarrassed gaze and opened his mouth to reply, before his eyes focused in on Ciel's face and his lips pressed tightly together. His gloved hand left the embrace of Ciel's, and he brought his fist to the side of the boy's face, his woolen thumb extended to softly brush over the violent bruise on the prostitute's cheek. Ciel flinched slightly, bowing his head.

"Ciel," Sebastian muttered, breathing the boy's name with such concern that Ciel was utterly struck that someone could ever hold such care for him. He unconsciously leaned into the hand that cupped his swollen cheekbone and nervously observed the expression of the priest's face.

"Did someone do this to you?" Sebastian asked, suddenly a lot closer to Ciel. His pointer finger lifted Ciel's chin gently so he could spy upon the bruise easier. Ciel shook his head, pulling back to escape the concerned touch, but Sebastian's hand wrapped around his upper arm and kept him in place. "Who did this?" Sebastian asked again, this time a hint of annoyance in his tone. His face was grave and serious, and his fingers gripped Ciel's arms tighter, unaware of how harsh his hold had become.

"Let go!" Ciel hissed, shaking his arm out of the grip and taking a step back. Sebastian quickly grew apologetic, realizing he had squeezed Ciel too hard. The blue-eyed boy gave him an annoyed glare and rubbed his arm grumpily. "Vous êtes fortes," he muttered moodily. "_Imbècile_."

"I'm sorry," he uttered softly, the gentle look returning to his face. Ciel shrugged, unable to hold a grudge against the beautiful man.

"Come," he repeated, beckoning for Sebastian to follow him, entering the mouth of another thin alley. The two slipped into the darkness, Ciel in the lead, Sebastian stalking briskly and obediently behind him. It was time Ciel showed the man what the prostitution hierarchy here in France was like. As they slipped further away from the city and closer to the outskirts, they felt the eyes of modern society leave their backs. It was then Ciel felt Sebastian reach for his hand in the dark, which he took and wrapped firmly in his own.

...

On the city's outskirts were the parks that surrounded Paris. A thing of beauty in the spring and summer, its radiance decayed in autumn and died in winter, surrendering to the bitter winds that stripped the trees. Deemed unworthy and unsafe, the park was locked for two months of the year, padlocks fastened around the tall iron fences. Despite the lock-out, Ciel spent a great deal of time inside the icy wastelands, often pondering what lay beyond the distant woods. After all, Ciel himself was another thing the city deemed unworthy and unsafe.

Sebastian was reluctant to trespass in the park, keeping a few feet away as Ciel reveal the broken padlock and pushed open the gate. He gave in however, when Ciel took off without him, trudging through the thin snow fall on those thin legs. Closing the gate behind him Sebastian hurried after the boy, careful not to slip on the wet ground. He followed the smaller up and over a slope, which hide the view of the city upon decent. Ciel had kept a good distance ahead, but Sebastian quickly caught up as they ascended yet another slope, small clouds of breath dissipating around their faces at the exertion.

Ciel finally paused at the top of the second slope, beneath a naked tree. His cheeks and nose were red as he looked down at Sebastian, whose perfectly arranged hair had fallen out of place and over his face.

"'Urry old man," Ciel teased, smirking as Sebastian lurched up the hill, finally reaching its peak where he bent over and rested his hands on his knees. Sebastian pushed at the boy weakly, winded from the walk.

"I'm twenty six, _little boy_," he rebutted, delighting in the way Ciel's nose scrunched up at the phrase. He heard the Parisian mumble something about _petite_ under his breath as he himself took a look at the view. In one direction was the cityscape, dark and regal against the sleet, but in the other direction was complete wilderness. A half-frozen lake spread out between the two men and the tree line, signaling the edge of Paris and the start of the forest. Ciel came to join him by his side, and the younger was overwhelmed with longing. He had spent far too many hours wondering what lay beyond.

"So," Sebastian broke the silence, "how did the bruise happen?"

"Rival whore," Ciel replied, looking off into the distance.

"A lady did that to you?" Sebastian asked curiously, raising an eyebrow. Ciel grimaced and shook his head quickly.

"No, 'er manager, Sutcliffe. We have '_istory_" Ciel said glumly, stuffing his hands into his pockets. He felt rather embarrassed telling this all to Sebastian, but the older man nodded thoughtfully, then touched his shoulder softly.

"Where else are you hurt?" Ciel gave a small shrug and brushed his hand over the front of his shirt.

"'Ere," he mumbled softly, tracing the tender flesh beneath his shirt. He felt Sebastian step closer to him, and smelt his soap-infused scent grow stronger. The taller man opened the breast of Ciel's jacket and moved the fabric back on his shoulders.

"On your chest?" He asked, and Ciel gave a nod. Without another word Sebastian brought his hand up to his mouth and bit the tip of his glove finger, then worked it off his hand. His long fingers moved to the waist of Ciel's pants, and untucked the shirt that was folded into the band. Shuffling the fabric up and over the boy's belly, Sebastian's heel brushed over the skin softly. Ciel gasped quietly, partly because of the cold nipping at his exposed stomach, but mostly because of the priest's hot hands pushing his shirt up.

Sebastian made a soft sound between his pale lips and his eyebrows lowered dramatically. His fingers splayed over the delicate skeleton in his touch, and he kissed his hands across the surface of the trauma.

"Does it hurt?" He asked solemnly, looking up at Ciel with the gravest of expressions. Ciel winced as one of the bony fingers against his body touched a bruise a little too firmly, and he nodded.

"Oui," he breathed, closing his eye to try will away the delicious thoughts that plagued his mind. Sebastian himself was deeply struck, and stared horrified at the boy's black and blue blotches. The intention in which Sebastian held him was so violently innocent that Ciel regretted the way his body was so easily reacting. Biting his lip he looked down as the man whom inspected his snowy skin closely.

"Cold," he bit out quickly, regrettably, but he couldn't stand the guilt he felt when he saw the concern on the clergyman's face. Sebastian snapped out of the dark fascination he had taken and released his hold on Ciel, tugging down his shirt.

"I'm sorry," he apologized, looking over Ciel like he was a small, baby animal, searching for any signs of harm. "Will you let me take care of them? Will you come back to the church with me?" Ciel nodded quickly, tucking his shirt back into his waistband and tugging his coat warmly around him. He tugged the corner of his lip upwards to give the older man a hint of reassurance, then the two left the baron park together, side by side.

...

The walk to Sebastian's cottage was not a great distance from the frozen lake and the two took the back streets surrounding the city. Ciel tried to explain to the best of his ability the pecking order in the prostitution world, the rules and laws the underground of whores had established throughout time.

Grell Sutcliffe was well recognized as the manager of the most luxurious and expensive whores in Paris, and seemed to be a talent seeker also. His eye for girls was one that earned him his name and fame, and his ability to sell sex provided him with a comfortable lifestyle. Sebastian expressed curiosity in the way Ciel lured customers, and the paying rate. The prostitute wasn't used to speaking as much as he currently was, to having someone express a genuine interest in him and his life. He asked Sebastian for a few words in English, and in turn he helped him out with his poor French, and the conversation continued to roll smoothly. They reached the Sacred Heart church before noon and Sebastian showed him through the gate, which he had normally hopped over.

Sebastian unlocked the apartment and Ciel made himself at home, plopping himself down on the end of the neatly made bedspread and splaying his hands over the duvet. The apartment was beginning to become very familiar to him, and it felt safe. To say the least, it was paradise compared to his place.

Sebastian shrugged off his coat and hung it by the door, placing his gloves and scarf of the table top. The cottage was warm and a small fire smoldered in the fireplace. Ciel too lost his gloves and scarf, and draped his coat over the back of a chair. Rolling up the sleeves of his new shirt, Ciel watched as Sebastian opened the top draw of his dresser and pulled out a small, metal tin.

"I have to get some things from inside, for your bruises," Sebastian explained, placing the tin a top the dresser. Ciel's eye slit mischievously and he drummed his fingers on the bed frame.

"Can I see church?" He inquired coyly, chewing on his lip. He had never entered a church before, and the opportunity seemed too exciting to miss. He could see Sebastian thought it was a bad idea, but his answer for declining was surprising.

"Ciel, they don't know you're a boy," Sebastian blurted out, eyebrows knitted. The lie he had kept hidden for days finally made itself known, and he felt a notable weight lift from his chest. "I lied, I told them you were _female_, I didn't know what to say, I didn't want them to be mad!" Sebastian elaborated, his state of disarray proving to be rather adorable to Ciel, who let a smirk creep over his lips.

"You lied?" He asked, watching as Sebastian apologetically nodded his head. Although a slight pang of guilt played with Ciel's emotions, this too seemed too good of an opportunity to miss, and he got to his feet, stalking over to the remorseful priest. "Sinner, sinner," he purred deeply, reaching out to straighten the white collar around Sebastian's throat. The taller bowed his head and breathed out heavily, searching Ciel's face as if redemption could be found upon that milky skin.

"Will be quick, no one will see," he tried to bargain, squeezing Sebastian's arms as he looked up at the taller man. The muscles under his hands seemed to tense and Sebastian mulled over the question in his mind. In all honestly, the priest was finding it hard to say no to the younger, who he'd become rather fond of, and Ciel was winning. He'd spent his whole life manipulating men to his gain, after all.

...

Sebastian had given in too easily. Sneaking into the back of the church, Ciel was told to wait in a storage room while Sebastian checked for Claude and Alois. Not a soul was in sight, so he collected Ciel from the back and brought him out into the large brick cathedral.

"Beautiful," Ciel murmured, stepping into the empty aisle. He felt out of place, strange, in a place that shunned him and his business so openly. Sebastian stayed a few feet behind him, ascending the aisle as Ciel explored the perfectly lined pews and rich stained glass windows. A neat stack of Bibles were arranged at the end of each pew, and Ciel ran his finger over the leather cover of one.

"Do you think I am bad," Ciel asked, considering the Bible before moving on. His eyes lingered on the fine carvings in the wooden beams above them, and sank down to the rich red curtains which fell to the floor. He couldn't see the man's face, but he knew what Sebastian was thinking. Slowly he turned and faced the blackette, who was deep in thought. Ciel sighed and rephrased his question. "Not what God thinks, what do _you_ think?"

Sebastian shook his head quickly. "I don't think you're bad," he whispered, but the sentence traveled well in the hollow hall. Ciel made a soft sound and stepped onto the stage at the back of the church, approaching the alter and looking down at Sebastian. He raised his chin and cast his eye across the empty pews, placing his hands either side of the open Bible on the podium.

"I would make good priest, no?" He asked slyly, rewarded with a smile from Sebastian. The real priest stepped up beside him and looked down at him with a silly smirk, eyeing him with bemusement.

"Perhaps," he pondered, reaching out to pinch Ciel's chin playfully. "But you don't believe in God." Ciel curled his top lip and snapped shut the Bible in his hands.

"I used to," he said slowly, furrowing his brow. Sebastian examined Ciel's face and his small smile faded, flicking his gaze to the slight pink that surrounded Ciel's eye patch. He wondered what happened to the boy, he wondered what made him stop believing. Sebastian opened his mouth to question the boy, but an echo made him stop what he was doing. Footsteps against stone flooring echoed in the empty church, and before Sebastian could question his actions, he was pressing down on the back of Ciel's neck and telling him to duck under the podium.

Startled, Ciel was forced down, crooking his head so he could shuffle under the wooden box. Sebastian's body moved forward, enclosing him inside, and that's when Ciel too heard the footsteps.

"Shit," he murmured under his breath, grabbing the edges of Sebastian's robes and crawling partially under them to unsure he was completely concealed. His feet rested between Sebastian's, his knees bunched up to his chest, and his face was three inches below Sebastian's crotch.

"Claude," called Sebastian, clearing his throat. The older priest had entered the back of the church and was making his way up the aisle. He carried a paper bag in his arm which he assumed carried food from the markets.

"Sebastian," he replied. "What are you doing in here?" The younger priest swallowed as he felt Ciel's hands grip nervously onto his knees, and his personal space being entered. He glanced down at the Bible on the podium and gave the cover a small tap.

"Just going over tomorrow's sermon," he explained. "My French, it's getting better." He laughed nervously and Claude gave him a gracious smile.

"Show me," he inquired, leaning his hip against the front-most pew. Meanwhile, smothered under the thick confines of Sebastian's robes, Ciel was tempted not to lean in and press his mouth against the fabric of the priest's crotch. It was right there, slightly above him, clad in black and between slightly spread legs, due to Ciel's intrusion. His hands were bunched in the fabric above Sebastian's knees, and he was sure the priest could feel the boy's hot breath against his thigh.

He heard Sebastian begin to speak, some butchered form of French that he could hardly decipher. He was too distracted, his neck craned upwards, contemplating what to do with this almighty temptation before him. He had seen it before, Sebastian's cock. Watching him undress in his apartment that night, the boy had memorized every detail of the priest's sex, fantasizing about it each and every time he engaged with a client. Now it was there, so close he could reach out and touch it, but it would be the end of any friendship he and Sebastian shared.

Ciel shifted in his spot, trying to shuffle from his bottom so he could sit on his knees. Sebastian's legs were tense as he moved slowly, silently, and he spread his fingers wider so he could delight in the strength of the taller man's long, slim thighs. Making it seem accidental, Ciel arched his neck and brushed his lips, lighter than air, against the seam of the priest's pants. His eye fluttered shut and he hovered there for a fleeting fraction of a second, savoring the warmth of cloth-covered skin against his mouth. Too long, and it would seem purposeful, and he moved away quickly, shifting onto his knees. What he wouldn't give to wrap his lips around that thick, piece of flesh. Ciel's fingers flinched as he thought about Sebastian bending him over this very podium and fucking him hard, his huge hands dug into his hair, yanking, taking.

He was hard, easily aroused by the erotic nature of his situation. Sebastian still gave some Americanized rendition of French, so Ciel decided to play a little further. Sitting up on his knees, he brought his head forward, knowing Sebastian would pass it off as uncomfortably fidgeting. His lips bumped against the leather of Sebastian's belt and he smirked as the cold buckle collided with his chin. Sebastian's hips vibrated softly as he spoke and Ciel allowed his eye to flutter shut, and he inhaled deeply, absorbing the scent of soap, wool, and the undeniable scent of hot flesh. A whisper of a moan escaped his lips.

He raised himself up slightly, rising up so his chin slid from the belt and rested on the base of Sebastian's stomach. The skin beneath his shirt was firm and warm, and Ciel pressed his lips against it, letting them brush over the fabric in a seemingly accidental way. He heard Sebastian hesitate and cough, which rumbled all the way down to his grazing lips. He smirked, a silent laugh on his lips, and slowly dragged his lips highly up the man's stomach until he was hovering beneath his bellybutton. That's when Sebastian shifted, and his leg kneed Ciel roughly in the chest. Ciel winced, backing off, but not lowering his height_. Fuck_, he mouthed, rubbing his assaulted chest softly. _You big, awkward giraffe_.

Deciding to serve his own payback, Ciel dug his nails into the fabric of Sebastian's pants, stabbing into the flesh beneath the cotton. He felt Sebastian tense, and suddenly the robes around him shifted, and a large hand grabbed a fistful of his hair and yanked it back roughly. Ciel opened his mouth and eye widely, surprised by the attack, wincing as Sebastian's grip tore him away from his body. He surrendered and released his claws from the man's legs, but Sebastian still held his long hair tightly. Giving one last act of defiance Ciel punched Sebastian firmly in the leg.

By now all traces of arousal had disappeared from the boy's system, which was until Sebastian's hand pushed his head down hard, making him sit on the backs of his legs and tip back his head. Warmth rushed through him in a hot flash, suddenly overtaken with the simple pleasure of being dominated. Ciel's eye was lidded as he tried to see in the dark enclosure, his lips slightly apart due to the angle of his head. His chin brushed the fabric of Sebastian's jeans, and from his proximity it was easy to imagine Ciel was about to suck the priest off.

Sebastian kept a firm grip in the silky locks wrapped around his fingers, holding so tightly that he was certain Ciel wouldn't move another inch. The boy had been fidgeting far too much, he'd been distracting, and it was unnerving to the young priest, who was reading aloud from his Bible, trying to hide his smuggled partner from sight. When he felt Ciel relax in his palm he releases the locks and retracted his hand.

Ciel grimaced as the hand left his hair, squeezing his eye shut as he tried to cling to the memory of the dominate, rough handling he'd been served. He could only imagine if the virginal priest would be so controlling in the bedroom, so clumsy even, with those huge hands and hard body, Ciel was sure the man could do some wanted damage to his smaller frame. He obediently moved away though, after his forceful warning, and chewed the side of his lip until he heard Sebastian stop speaking, and footsteps echo away. A few moments later Sebastian stepped back and released Ciel from his wooden prison.

Sebastian's face was screwed up in a frown, and Ciel thought it nothing less than adorable.

"Je suis désolé," Ciel apologized quickly. "Sorry," he added thoughtfully afterwards. He crawled out and brushed off the knees of his pants.

"You could have been caught," Sebastian whispered, grabbing Ciel's arm and tugging him to the back of the church and into a hidden room. "This is serious Ciel, your kind isn't welcome here." Ciel stopped quickly and jerked back his arm, making the priest turn around and look at him.

"My _kind_?" He repeated, feeling oddly offended. He knew his profession wasn't sought after or appreciated, but he didn't expect to hear dismay from Sebastian. He thought they had a friendship of sorts. An understanding, at least. Sebastian's face fell and he pushed back the hair from his face.

"I apologize," he returned. "I was just so nervous that you would be caught. You're always welcome here Ciel, you just can't let them see…" He trailed off, hoping the prostitute would agree. Ciel gave a nod, he wasn't completely stupid.

"Apologize for kicking me," Ciel stated quickly, not so ready to forgive Sebastian after all. He pushed the man's shoulder and Sebastian looked shocked.

"No," he said firmly. "Apologize for squirming! What were you doing under there anyway? You could have been caught." Ciel looked sheepish and turned away from the older man's stare, his cheek feeling awfully hot.

"Nothing," he muttered, shame and excitement on his breath. "'Oo was that, anyway?" He asked.

"Father Faustus," Sebastian explained. "I thought he was out, he startled me. Asked me to read lines in French and you and me both know that is not exactly my greatest strength. Ciel should have laughed but something the man said made his mind spin.

"_Claude_ Faustus?" He asked, and Sebastian nodded.

"Do you know him?" Ciel quickly shook his head.

"Non, non. He is well know," he answered, in partial truth. Sebastian gave a little smile, a small part of him proud for having such a renowned superior.

"Yes, his work is infamous, especially his plight to abolish prostitution…" Sebastian once again trailed off, catching the look on Ciel's face. "Oh." Ciel gave a small shrug, anxious to leave the stuffy room they were speaking in. Sebastian looked awkward and apologetic, and he gave his arm a rub.

"We should go," Ciel asked, wanting to leave the church and break the tense mood. Sebastian agreed and he collected a tin that sat on the shelf of the store room, filled with medical supplies. There was another door that lead to the garden, and the two left the church and headed back to Sebastian's little cottage, which was all the way at the back of the lot. The front of the cottage was shrouded by a well-kept garden, half dead because of the winter, and half evergreen. Ciel smirked as he thought of the priest with a pair of shears, pruning his little plants to perfection. As Sebastian unlocked his house again, Ciel spotted movement past the leaves that surrounded the pair.

"What is he doing 'ere?" Ciel asked, his hand reaching out for Sebastian's arm in reflex for safety. Not hearing the tone in Ciel's voice, or understanding the way the boy had spoken, Sebastian flicked his eyes over the the person in the background, working at the back of the church.

"That's the undertaker," Sebastian explained. "He helps to arrange the funerals." And with that being said, Sebastian entered his house, and Ciel followed after him, his eyes still lingering on the horrible man that entreated his only place of safety.

….

The fine hair of Ciel's body stood on end as Sebastian's elegant fingers ghosted over his pale flesh. Ciel was on his back, against the blankets of Sebastian's bed, letting his ribs rise and fall softly as the priest applied antiseptic to his fragile body. Each time the gentle man prodded his wounds, he winced softly, but the cream seemed to ease the stiffness in his bones.

Sebastian took his time to dab the cool medicine on Ciel's skin, a half hour passing as he healed the small boy's skin. He spoke softly as he tended to him, and Ciel would answer every so often, his stomach moving up and down with his answers. Sebastian had been in this situation before, practicing medicine in his role as a priest. Often he would be there to assist injured prostitutes, but their injuries would be seen to the nuns. He would be methodical, mechanical, but with Ciel he felt oddly protective. The boy breathed slowly under his administrations, and Sebastian considered him akin to a smaller brother.

Ciel rebuttoned his shirt when Sebastian was done, and he felt the priest touch the hair on his shoulder. "It's really long," he said, and Ciel tucked it back behind his ear. The strands sat below his collar bones and he hadn't had a trim in years.

"I like it," he admitted, holding it back a little self-conscious.

"Me too." Sebastian gave a little smile and then let his gaze flick over the tender, red skin that peeked out of Ciel's eye patch. He had looked at the skin over and over, it had plagued the back of his mind since the first time he saw it. Ciel looked at him and swallowed, knowing exactly what he was looking at. Ciel turned his head at the same time Sebastian lifted his hand, and the boy simultaneously shook his head.

"Don't," he warned.

"It's infected," Sebastian insisted, trying to cup the side of Ciel's face. Ciel gave in slightly, tensely inclining his head. The priest's thumb pressed the skin softly, feeling how warm it was. It most certainly injured. As soon as the skin was prodded Ciel pulled away again. "Let me look, I can help."

"You cannot," Ciel insisted, sitting up fully and grabbing for his coat.

"Then let me give you something for it," Sebastian said quickly, desperately. Ciel had by then stood and was standing by the door. His eye was an overly tender subject, and he felt the need to flee. The priest's offer was tempting though, because his eye had given him a great deal of trouble.

"Okay." And with Ciel's consent, Sebastian gave him a small pot of antiseptic, and recited the instructions for him. With his medicine placed safely in his pocket, Ciel left Sebastian's apartment with the excuse of the setting sun. In truth, he felt jumpy and skittish. When Sebastian had graced his marred eye with his innocent affection it had unsettled him horribly. He couldn't stand the idea of taking the generosity of such a perfect man.

...

**INTERMISSION****  
><strong>Go make yourself a cucumber sandwich and a glass of milk. This chapter is too long for single consumption, and you'll probably need glasses when you're older. If you already have glasses, then why worsen the problem? Give your eyes a break and go pet your cat. Then come back for the second half of this chapter.

…..

When Ciel arrived home there was a man waiting outside of his apartment.

The tall blond had sturdy, wide shoulders and a thick jaw, dotted with a four o'clock shadow. His hair was slicked back but a few strands fell in front of his face, and a cigarette was stuck between his unsmiling lips. From the look of his clothing, Ciel could tell he wasn't the usual clientele of rich, perverted businessmen, and he assumed that like most middle-class men that came to him, he had some sick fantasy the other prostitutes wouldn't allow him to act out.

"Good evening," Ciel purred as he approached the blond man, who he guessed to be in his mid-30s. The older looked nervous, his eyes darted around the mostly empty square and then back down to Ciel, but he couldn't quiet meet his eye.

"Hey," he said, his voice was deep and gruff. He removed his cigarette and dropped it on the ground beneath him, then crushed it with his shoe. "I asked around, they said you'd do anything." Ciel's eye widened and he gave an inwards smirk. He'd guessed correctly. He gave a little nod and stepped closer to the man, letting his eye lid seductively.

"You heard correctly..." He trailed off, looking for a name.

"Bard," the blond answered, sticking out his hand and shaking Ciel's. The boy's blood rushed as he felt the rough callouses on the man's palm and he let his mind wander to how they would feel gripping and spreading his thighs. Releasing the larger hand, Ciel unlocked his apartment door and then invited Bard in. The blond followed him upstairs, where Ciel took his coat, hanging it and his own on the stand by the door.

"What can I do for you tonight, _Bard_," Ciel asked, unable to help the seductive smirk that ghosted across his lips. His client still seemed shifty, uncomfortable, but none-the-less determined.

"There are certain things," he cleared his throat, and scratched the back of his head. "Things my wife won't let me do, things the other whores won't let me do." Ciel was curious, excited, but he couldn't help the underlying fear that resided in his gut. The last person that came to him with an overly perverted fetish was the Undertaker. Pushing back his nerves, Ciel placed his soft hand on Bard's forearm, which was revealed by his rolled up sleeve. His flesh was hard and hot, and he traced his fingers over the muscle invitingly.

"I'll let you do _anything _you want to me Bard," he promised, stepping closer so he could arch his neck and mutter the man's name into his ear. "Do you want to fuck me?" He asked, his lips brushing over Bard's jugular. "I'll let you fuck me, as hard as you want." Bard's breath sharpened, and Ciel let his hand lower to the man's crotch, where he faintly cupped the bulge of his client's cock. He was stiff, and as Ciel pressed his hand harder into the covered flesh, he grew even harder. He felt Bard nod against his throat, the man's breath was heavy now and fanned against Ciel's nape hotly.

"I want to bind you," Bard asked, his voice hesitant. Ciel's eye rolled back into his head and he practically purred. He nodded, grabbing Bard's dick roughly. "And gag you," he said, his hand reaching out and grabbing Ciel's arm. "Then I want to fuck you, h-hard." His voice faltered as Ciel pressed into his hips, his small body molding into his. He allowed his hand to travel from Ciel's arm to his hip, where his fingers itched to touch more.

"My wife won't let me, she says it hurts her," Bard muttered, his eyes were nervous and Ciel gave him a soft, flirtatious smile.

"I'll let you," he said, his own body hot and flustered, pressing himself into Bard and delighting in the strength of his chest.

"I don't like m-men, but I was desperate," Bard breathed out, his voice hitching as Ciel rolled his hips into his, the boy was lithe and willing.

"I'm a better fuck than any woman," he guaranteed confidentially. Bard made a deep, pleasured sound in his throat, and he pulled back slightly, pausing Ciel's actions.

"I brought a bag, I want you to wear what's inside." Ciel raised an eyebrow, curious. He nodded and took the bag that Bard had left with his coat, and removed the items inside.

"You'd like me to dress like a woman?" He asked, inspecting the stockings in his hand.

"Like my wife," explained Bard, who still looked incredibly uncomfortable. Ciel agreed it was a little odd, but it wouldn't be the first time Ciel's client had longed for another during sex. Wives, old girlfriends, various celebrities names would be called out in the midst of sex, and Ciel would ignore it, as if he wanted his own name called.

"I can do that," he agreed, and walked to the side of his bed. In the bag were a pair of thigh high black stockings, a pair of women's underwear, and a lacey silk nightgown. Ciel felt guilty, these were another woman's clothes, it felt oddly wrong to wear her things and commit this sins with her husband. But with the amount of requests Bard had made tonight, Ciel knew he couldn't pass up on such a large amount of money.

"20 franc," he said, and held baited breath. It was a lot to ask, even with the unusual request it was over double what he would normally charge. But this week had been slow, and cold, and he needed the money. He was relieved when he heard Bard agree to the price, and the man even placed his payment on the table.

"Now change."

Bard turned away as Ciel removed his clothes, folding his precious shirt and placing it on the window sill. He dropped his pants and shuffled off his boots, and placed them by his shirt too, and then he turned to the women's clothing. He grimaced, looking over the silk. This was degrading, and he was embarrassed, but it was a lot of money. His eyes looked at the franc resting on the table and he thought about the tea and bread he could buy with all of that.

The underwear were soft and thin, an off-white fabric in a skimpy cut. Ciel was curious why Bard's wife owned such a riskè article, similar to some of the things female prostitutes would wear. Regardless, he bit back his pride and slid the underwear up his legs, and over his hips. Shifting uncomfortably he adjusted the garment, hating the way the silk constricted his groin and slid up his backside. He was only glad that there wasn't a mirror in sight. The leggings were less of a hassle, ending mid-thigh, and he draped the nightgown over his body, rather enjoying the touch of silk on his bare skin. _I look ridiculous_, he considered, feeling far less aroused than he had been. "I'm done," he announced to Bard.

"Lay on the bed, face down," he demanded. S_o you can't see my face,_ Ciel thought. _So you can pretend you're fucking your wife._ Kneeling on his mattress, Ciel crawled to the center of the bed and settled down, resting his head on his crossed arms. A few moments later he heard Bard approach the bed and begin to undress. In those short minutes Ciel let his mind wander back to Sebastian, and the kindness he had shown him earlier. His fond thoughts were interrupted when his wrists were moved above his head and attached to the bed head with Bard's tie. Ciel gave a tug, but the knot was firm.

The room was silent, motionless for a moment, until a calloused hand pressed between Ciel's shoulder blades. His lust was reignited as the hand slid down his spine and to his hip, where it gripped Ciel roughly. The boy curled his back and spread his legs ever so slightly, enticing the older man. A second hand came to grip Ciel's sides, bunching the silk night gown between thick fingers. Bard's hands pushed their way up to Ciel's shoulders and one wound into his hair, yanking his head back suddenly. Ciel made a startled sound, and something was shoved into his mouth, fabric, soft, stifling his tongue. Another piece of fabric was wrapped around his head, a tie perhaps, keeping the gag in place. It was knotted tightly at the back of his head, pinching at a few strands of Ciel's hair. He made an annoyed sound but it was lost in the layers of fabric that were shoved through his teeth.

Hidden by the nightgown, Bard was blind to the bruises on Ciel's ribs as he forced the boy onto his knees, and a pained yell was muffled into the bind. Bard draped his body over the boy's, and he felt his naked thighs brush the back of his own.

"Do you like this, slut," that baritone voice murmured in his ear, more confident than it had been before. Ciel didn't do anything, and was punished when a strong hand came up to wrap around his throat tightly. He groaned and quickly nodded his head, unable to struggle as his hands tugged at their binds.

"I'm going to fuck you till you bleed," Bard threatened against Ciel's ear, giving his throat another rough squeeze. Ciel's eyes watered and he jerked, making soft sounds against his gag. Bard was rough, but he'd had worse. It was not as if he could ask him to stop now, anyway.

The flimsy underwear was pushed down, gathering at Ciel's knees, and his throat was released. His chest was pushed into the mattress below, his head hitting the bed as he felt Bard grab his dick and rub it over his exposed entrance. Ciel's toes curled and his eye unfocused as he felt the slick tip rut over his ass. He pushed back his hips for more, unable to deny himself that temptation, a guttural moan caught in his throat. Bard made a sound of approval, slapping his hand against his ass to pull the flesh further apart. Ciel jolted, his fully erect cock slipping over his stomach.

Bard hissed as he pushed his cock into Ciel, feeling the boy tense around him. His nails dug into Ciel's skin as he inched his way inside, forcing himself into the unprepared hole. He could hear Ciel moan under him and grabbed a fistful of slate hair, pushing down the boy's face until the mattress smothered all sounds coming from him. The deeper cries reminded him that he was not with his wife, and he pushed harder down, suffocating him.

Ciel's cry was lost as his nose and eyes were smashed into the straw mattress. He tried to suck in air but it was thin and his lungs screamed, his wrists were rubbed raw from tugging at the knot that bound them. Each time he backed up he pushed himself further onto Bard's cock, who's girth was thicker than most. He felt as if he was being torn, despite his numerous experiences being taken raw was painful.

When fully sheathed Bard panted against the back of Ciel's neck, reveling in the strangling tightness of the boy. His grip loosened on the boy's head and Ciel turned his head to the side, nostrils flaring as he sucked in air. Bard's rough hands slid down to the boy's soft thighs, rubbing at them gently, before he pulled back and thrust into his smaller body, jerking him against the mattress. Ciel's groan was muffled and Bard gave a sharp buck in response to the sound. He glared down at the boy and pulled his hips back and forth at a punishing speed. Each small surge of pleasure that coursed through Ciel's body was quickly lost in pain. Bard was clumsy, unartful, his cock pounding inside of him, never brushing over that spot that could make him scream. The ties on his wrists were rubbing and stinging, and his air was cut off every time he exhaled sharply. He could feel Bard touching his thighs as he fucked him, and he arched into the touch, trying to angle his body so he could feel pleasure, but which each shift Bard would push his body down again, dominating him easily with his thick, strong arms.

Ciel whimpered as Bard pulled out suddenly, his eye opening wider, and he heard a bitter laugh. Fingers prodded at his open and abused hole and Ciel flinched away, feeling something wet on his thighs. Bard's hand came to Ciel's face, and he recoiled as he saw his own blood smeared over the tips of his client's fingers. Bard smeared the blood across his cheek and throat, and Ciel craned his head to look at the man. The blonde's once nervous face had morphed into something feral, lusting. It was as if he was in a trance, his blue eyes were glazed over, unfocused, looking past Ciel. He was uncontrollable, no wonder he didn't want to do _this_ to his wife. Ciel broke the gaze when he felt Bard re-enter his sore body, and squeezed shut his eye. _20 franc_, he reminded himself.

Bard didn't last long. His thrusting became uneven, jerky, and his grunts increased in tempo and in volume. The blond man was hunched over Ciel, holding his hips roughly and spreading his legs as far apart as they would go. The underwear that was bunched around Ciel's knees tore slightly but it went unnoticed, the tie around Ciel's wrists however only seemed to tighten. Bard's large hand fumbled for Ciel's face, and his fingers pinched Ciel's nose, cutting of all of his air. Ciel's eye widened in fear as he struggled to breath, and he bucked backwards, terrified. He tugged roughly at his binds, rattling the bed head, but his wrists were squeezed tighter, the ends of his fingers losing their color. He screamed, but he was mute, he curled his back but he was pinned. He was helpless and suffocating, and completely at the mercy of his client. Ciel's body tensed up and Bard groaned against his ear, delighting in how tight Ciel became as he struggled. Shoving his cock as deeply inside of Ciel as he could, he bit the back of Ciel's neck as he started to cum, grunting through his teeth as he kept his fingers on Ciel's nose and his other hand dug into the boy's hip. Ciel's world started to go black, and then his nose was released.

Ciel's eye was lidded, half shut, and he stared unfocused at his window sill. He felt Bard's weight lift from his back, he felt his length removed from his body. Ciel had no control over the way his legs gave out and his hips fell to one side. He knew he was bleeding, and he could feel Bard's semen dripping out of him and onto his already dirty mattress. There was no blood in his hands, and his hips held small grazes from the man's nails. He breathed in through his nose and choked.

"I'm sorry," he was faintly aware of Bard saying. "I'm so sorry," he apologized, his voice was low and shaky. Ciel couldn't see his face, but he heard him dress quickly. He mumbled apologies repeatedly and fumbled as he collected his things, clearly disorientated. Ciel could not think, could not move. He just laid there and listened as Bard apologized again, and quickly left, not caring enough to untie Ciel, or to collect his wife's soiled garments. Ciel squeezed shut his eye as he heard heavy footsteps descending stairs, and then his front door slam shut. The door didn't click as usual, and he knew it would be slightly ajar.

Ciel's flexed his hands slowly, feeling pins and needles rush through his fingertips. If he craned back his head far enough he could glimpse the purple tips of his fingers, circulation slowing down at the bound extensions. His neck hurt from where he had been strangled, so he curled it back towards his body. He drew his knees slowly up to his chest so he was rested in the fetal position, and he shuddered as he felt the blood and semen spread across his hind and legs begin to cool. His open doorway was beginning to let cool air in, and although there was no snow tonight, it was still bitterly cold. The only bit of relief he relied on was the flimsy silk gown that was twisted around his slight torso. The stockings kept his toes warm enough as he tucked his legs closer to his body, trying to preserve heat. It was only after a few, lonely minutes had passed that Ciel realized the severity of his situation. He was all alone, bound and voiceless, completely helpless. _I'm going to freeze or starve to death_, Ciel thought, his eyelashes fluttering as he felt a fat, wet tear well in his eye. Don't cry, he scolded himself, but he couldn't help it. His terror grew in immensity as each minute passed, and he was struck with desperation. Tears fell down his face as he gave a weak struggle against his bindings.

_I'm so fucking stupid!_ He squeezed his eye as his tears turned angry and he yelled out beneath his gag. _Why do I let people do this to me?!_ He started to move his head around, he began to panic. His cheek rubbed roughly against his ruined mattress as he realized that if he could remove the gag he could scream for help. He grated his burning cold skin against the straw, wincing as he did so, but the knot was bound tightly in his own hair. He cried out in frustration again and yanked his wrists roughly, yelping as raw skin was traumatized.

Ciel's chest was enveloped in coldness. Tears fell mechanically down his cheeks as he relaxed his limbs, giving up on the fight. He realized that no one would come looking for him, he realized he was all alone. The police checkup he received regularly wouldn't happen for days, and he had no friends. Sebastian wouldn't come looking for him, if he knocked he would assume he wasn't home. He would be here forever, until he died, Ciel thought morbidly. Time passed, and Ciel wasn't aware of how long it had been since Bard had left. The tears of his face dried quickly with the cold in the air, the mess between his legs was sticky and clotted. He tried to pull his limbs closer to his body but he was too cold by now. His eye fluttered half shut, and his body hovered in the state of half-awareness.

_Three hours passed_. The prostitute's eye was open, slightly glazed over, but his mind was asleep. He ached beyond measure, so much so that he couldn't register the pain. He lingered there, in his own mess, completely terrified and helpless. He had been tied to his bed for so long that he'd lost all feeling in his hands and feet. Not only was it horribly cold, but he was dizzy from his restricted airways.

That's when he heard the front door open.

_No no no no_, Ciel thought, his body curling up quickly. Ciel was suddenly wide awake and he tried to shift his body, his frozen limbs. _Who would come into his house?_ He shifted, tried again to hopelessly tug at his binds. He was going to be robbed, or murdered. He was helplessly displayed, humiliated. He didn't want a single soul to see him this way. His eyes welled up with frightened tears as he tried to edge up closer to the head of his bed. His bedroom door creaked open slowly, and the hair on the back of Ciel's neck rose.

"Ciel?" There were fast footsteps on the floorboards as someone rushed towards him. The mattress dipped and creaked as a body crawled onto the bed and a large, uncalloused hand cupped the side of Ciel's cheek. Sebastian was on hands and knees above Ciel's bound body, his face pulled into the most anguished Ciel had ever seen it. The boy mumbled his name against the gag and Sebastian quickly tugged down the tie and pulled the fabric out of Ciel's mouth. Ciel's first reaction was a loud sobbing cough and then a loud, wheezy breath inwards. His body sucked in more air greedily and he shook, looking at Sebastian with his eye wide open.

"There was blood on your door," he explained quickly. "You left your gloves, the door, I let myself in," his speech was rushed and thick with ache. Ciel's lips trembled as Sebastian's horrified eyes looked from his bloody face, to his bleeding wrists, to the damage spattered between abused thighs.

Sebastian's heart raced as adrenalin raged through him. He'd only meant to return Ciel's gloves, but when he saw the boy's door ajar and the faint smear of blood on the timber, his heart had sunk and he had rushed as fast as he could to Ciel's aid. He had been so pale, so still when he first saw him that he expected the worst. The dark blood against his white skin had been so dramatic, so traumatizing that Sebastian's mind had shut down as he rushed to Ciel's side. Now, with the boy beneath him, staring at him deliriously, he realized his hands shook and his mind only said one thing. _Protect protect protect_.

Ciel opened his mouth to speak but his mouth was dry, and he grunted softly. His eyes were still wet where he had cried in fear and he rubbed the side of his face against the mattress, trying to rub the dampness away. Sebastian quickly fumbled with his tied wrists, releasing his hands. Sebastian's smell covered him, calming him. His wrists came loose and blood rushed to his fingers. He couldn't bring himself to move so Sebastian held his hands, warming them.

"Ciel how did this happen, I don't understand," Sebastian mumbled, his face grave and his lips downturned. He moved back to look down at Ciel's body, the marks on his skin and the torn underwear looped around his red knees. "I don't," he whispered, absolutely horrified. Ciel pulled his arms against his body and tugged at the flimsy robe around him, but his fingers shook and the fabric fell from his grasp. His arms had been pinned in the same position for hours and he whined softly. Sebastian quickly shrugged his coat off his shoulders and begun wrapping it around Ciel. The blood and semen on the boy's thigh smeared over Sebastian's pant leg, seeping into the fabric, but Sebastian neither noticed nor minded. Instead he helped Ciel's frail arms through the holes of his jacket and buttoned up the front.

"Sebastian," Ciel said softly, his lips purple and trembling. "Do not look," he whispered. He squeezed his own eye shut and his clumped eyelashes pressed into his skin. Sebastian ignored him and sat back, unfurling Ciel's legs so he could ease the broken underwear down the boy's legs. Sebastian could see what the client had done to Ciel, and his heart climbed into his throat. He was beyond revolted, but he knew he wasn't disgusted by the boy. It was hard to see Ciel as anything less than a lost lamb.

"I've seen worse," he reassured, helping Ciel to sit up. He slipped the scarf from around his neck and wrapped it around his hand, then used it to wipe the blood stain off Ciel's cheek. When his fist touched the boy's face he could feel Sebastian shaking. He was just as nervous as he was. Ciel felt ashamed and couldn't meet the priest's eye.

"Really?" Ciel mumbled, too sore to tug away from the caring touches. Sebastian gave a nervous laugh and shook his head.

"No," he admitted truthfully, smoothing back the boy's hair from his face. Ciel's heart lurched as he noticed how damp Sebastian's eyelashes were, and guilt washed over him.

Ciel tried to give a weak laugh, but he emitted a cough that rattled his rib cage and shook his wrecked body. Ciel pulled the thick coat tighter around his body and was actually thankful for the tacky stockings on his calves as they kept his toes warm. "Why do you let them do this?" Sebastian asked, and when Ciel looked up he noticed the priest had been staring at him, with that strangely collected, caring watch.

"Don't," Ciel said simply, unable to stare back. He pulled the coat close to him but he moved away from its owner. "Do not waste time," he warned, his eye down cast. He could feel Bard's seed flake between his legs, partially dry and he wanted to empty his stomach. He was disgusting. Sebastian wasn't. He didn't deserve the kind of attention the man gave him. He willed himself to find the few words he knew to describe to Sebastian how he was feeling, but it was lost in translation.

"I'm taking you to the cottage," Sebastian said, brushing off everything the boy had just said. Ciel opened his mouth to object but Sebastian was already collecting the boy's boots and slipping them onto his stocking-clad feet. "You're cold and dirty, and I have a fire and clean water. You're coming with me." Sebastian's was demanding as he easily lifted Ciel into his arms, as if the boy weighed nothing.

"Money, on table," Ciel told him, and Sebastian collected the small collection as he balanced Ciel against his chest. The priest may have been thin, but he was strong and solid. It seemed no effort to pocket Ciel's coins and collect his clothing for him.

"Do you have your key?" Sebastian asked and Ciel nodded, still a little dazed that he was being held against the man's chest. He rested his nose against Sebastian's shirt and let his eye fall linger on the brink of sleep. "I've got you," Sebastian promised as he locked Ciel's apartment and began to carry him carefully down the staircase. Ciel's covered legs swayed as they descended, and his head began to loll into his shoulder. "I'll protect you."

…..

**Please review. I won't make any weird threats… just review, please. I've been getting fewer and fewer reviews as of late and it's making me feel…. Really, really, really shitty about my work. I know heaps of people read my work, but none of you review, so I sort of feel like you guys are saying "oh wow, that was shit, I'm totally not reviewing that shit". Like seriously, if you review with "that was OK" I will cry with happiness. If you tell me what your favorite part was I'll probably wet my pants. If you write THREE sentences I will thank you on my Tumblr and put lots of love hearts in the post. **


	10. Reverent

**I've experimented a bit with Ciel's accent in this chapter, I hope you don't mind. I also want to let you know I was almost killed by a fire engine today. Please follow me on Tumblr. I reblog lot's of pictures of cats and porn, and I will love you forever, if you do.**

**This chapter is dedicated to the twenty lovely months robovacation has given me.**

...

Sebastian Michaelis had always been curious.

His curiosity had started when he was six years old, and the little American had discovered a dead cat in a neighborhood alley. The reserved child had watched it from a few feet away, clenching his little fists by his neatly pressed pants at an attempt to calm himself. Within seconds he had quietly shifted over to the corpse and squatted down beside it. As Sebastian settled his bum onto the backs of his feet he watched a second skin of maggots crawl across the underbelly of the deceased feline. Screwing up his brow in concentration the boy had been utterly confused about the partially strewn innards of the ex-pet. He touched its cold paw softly and jerked back his hand. He nudged its soft cheeks until lifeless eyes rolled and stared back at him unevenly. It took him a good half hour to conclude that the animal had died, but it took him a few years to understand why the creature hadn't gone to Heaven, and had instead remained decaying in his backyard.

When Sebastian was ten his mother died. It was slow, and in the months before his mother's passing Sebastian would spend a great deal of time sitting in her room, reading. As he turned the pages of his books he would watch her face, day by day. Eventually her cheeks sunk, and her eyes darkened, and Sebastian watched in slow motion as his mom decayed like the cat in the alleyway. Eventually, she took her last breath, and his mother was removed from their house.

"Where is she going?" Sebastian asked at his mothers funeral, standing stationary by his fathers side. His father said she was going to _Heaven _but Sebastian watched as three men lowered her coffin into a hole in the ground. Once again he was utterly perplexed.

Sebastian had always been religious. When he was younger he'd been aware this scripture was forced on him, but as he grew older he believed deeply in the lessons his father had read to him from their leather bound Bible. It was never asked, it was always assumed, that Sebastian would become a priest. And so he did. This began with his early teenage years spent as an alter boy. He occupied most of his days in the family church, and he came to know a handful of clergyman and religious types. None of these men, despite their vast wisdom, had the knowledge or desire, however, to share with Sebastian the facts of death. It wasn't until he was fourteen that he made acquaintance with someone who _could_.

It was a simple cold. But Sebastian's father had been protective since the death of his wife, and the instant Sebastian developed the throaty cough he was taken to the doctor. Sebastian had never been to a hospital, and he was thrilled by it immediately. How clinical and clean it was. The way his shoes squeaked on the tile beneath his shoes. That strange scent that stayed with him for days. When he was examined the doctor remarked at the speed of his heartbeat. Being courteous Sebastian had passed it off as being slightly nervous, but in fact he was exhilarated by a large diagram behind the doctor's head. It was a drawing of a human body, but there was no skin. Instead the body was covered in thick, red ropes, and sinewy yellow strings. Lines pointed to different parts of the body, pointing out the heart, and the lungs, and the stomach. The young boy was bewildered that all of _that_ was under his very own skin. _Anatomy_, Sebastian mouthed as the doctor pressed a stethoscope to his skin.

The next weekend Sebastian had visited the library and spent the afternoon guiltily pouring over the contents of a human physiology book. He kept it secret from his father, knowing immediately he wouldn't like the idea. Science wasn't favored in the religious world, and it certainly wasn't welcome in the Michaelis household. When he was younger he would ask his father what fingernails were made of, or why his teeth came out and larger ones grew in. His father had always told him it was _the Lord's doing, never question the Lord_. This answer had never been enough to quell the curiosity of the boy. So he certainly didn't mention that when he went back to the doctors for a small checkup, he'd expressed his love of anatomy to the bemused doctor.

"What do you want to be when you grow up?" The doctor asked, placing a cold stethoscope against Sebastian's chest.

"I'm going to be a priest," he said, practiced, like a well-rehearsed line.

"But what do you _want_ to be?" The doctor had asked again. Sebastian opened his mouth but said nothing. It was the first time anyone had ever asked him that question. The doctor was lovely, aged and calm, and laughed at the young man's indecision. Still, he pitied the boy's eagerness to learn, and invited him to visit the hospital so that he may learn more about the fascinating facts of the body. He'd scheduled an appointment for the teenager to visit again in two weeks, under the guise of a checkup. This is how Sebastian's fortnightly lessons began.

Sebastian absorbed knowledge quicker than the old doctor could provide it. The boy showed up, every two weeks, eager and delighted at every single secret meeting. It began with books, dozens and dozens of books from the doctor's vast library. He would take perch in the small waiting room and spend hours upon hours reading about how hair grew, why humans coughed and sneezed, and how the eye worked. He sketched diagrams on parchment, took notes whenever he could. Eventually the books were not enough to fuel his fire, and he asked the doctor for more. The man, delighted in the boys love for the human body, allowed him to watch when he examined patients. He showed Sebastian the way a pupil would dilate in darkness, he showed him how you could make a man's leg kick involuntarily if you struck the right nerve. He showed him how to properly clean a wound and to apply bandages, but Sebastian was more enthralled by the days that the doctor would show him diagrams of the way blood pumped through the heart.

At seventeen Sebastian had lost the soft face of his youth, and looked more the part of an apprentice than an inexperienced young boy. The way he conducted himself, his impeccable precision, his sharp face and sudden increase in height. He was trusted by patients and known by the doctors. The young man reveled at each new patient, delighting at their bruises, their abnormalities, the stages of infection and swelling. Sebastian found himself dreaming of eye lashes and the way a vein would throb under thin skin tissue. The older he grew, the more trust the doctor placed in him, and Sebastian began to watch operations, surgeries, horrifying sights that only his wildest dreams could conjure. One day he watched as a surgeon revealed a live, beating heart, still buried inside the chest of the patient. Sebastian watched, enraptured, as the small organ fluttered like a baby bird. That night when he went home he pressed his hand over his own heart and marveled at the motions beneath his ribs.

When Sebastian was eighteen he told his father he wanted to study human physiology. Expectedly, his father was enraged, and Sebastian was ashamed. Science was sacrilegious. Sebastian was a good man though, and that was a trait he could never betray. With a heavy heart Sebastian packed a small suitcase with his clothes, and wrapped a little wooden box containing medical equipment inside his shirts and pants. A scalpel, antiseptic, bandages, souvenirs of his dream. He took all of these with him, and then he left for seminary.

Sebastian studied for eight years. He focused on his religion, his faith, and he studied. He excelled in all aspects of his learning, as he had always done. He became intelligent, and patient, and there was no doubt in anyone's mind that he would become the most wholesome of priests. And yet, his passion for the human body never died. Some nights the young man would examine himself thoroughly in a mirror, smoothing his fingers over his own veins, watching the way his hairs raised, waiting for his pulse to drum through his jugular. These small things were the very essence of life, and the core of Sebastian's love.

When Sebastian was twenty six he took his vow of chastity, easily, reverently. He had no interest in flesh unless he could study it, and no desire to lay with a woman. It had been some time since he'd last indulged in his fantasies of science, too concerned with his final year of seminary. Shortly after his graduation he was thrilled to discover he had been accepted by the bishop to begin his priesthood. Within the month he was on his way to Europe, relocated to Paris to join the parish in France, and all he took with him were a small suitcase of clothes, and his little medicine box.

Sebastian had always been curious.

…..

A faint but steady heart beat throbbed through the tips of Sebastian's fingers, and for the first time in his life it wasn't his own pulse. The priest curled his fingers tightly into the bundle he was carrying, drawing Ciel's little body closer to his chest.

Sebastian's breath was stolen as he felt the pulse rush past his fingertips, it hardly compared to touching his own pulse. And the small breaths Ciel released against his throat were chilling, enchanting, too.

His was still caught in a daze after finding Ciel. His intentions truly were innocent, to return to the boy his gloves. But then he'd discovered Ciel's naked body, snow white and motionless, and for an instant Sebastian was terrified he'd lost the only companion he'd ever made. Purposefully digging his fingers past the folds of thick jackets Sebastian pressed his fingers onto Ciel's naked torso, calmed when he felt the drumming of the others heart again. It was the only proof he had that the limp burden in his arms was alive.

He began walking again, pausing a second to wriggle Ciel tighter to his chest. Sebastian was tall and strong, but it was cold and his coat was bundled around his small passenger. His feet felt numb as he continued the walk down the grubby passageway, Ciel's loosely booted feet knocking rhythmically against his shins. He felt the boy stiffen slightly in his arms and curl his fingers into his shirt.

"Ciel?" Sebastian continued walking as he felt the body in his arms stir. He was greeted with a little grunt, and felt the head on his shoulder lift and stare up at him.

"Où suis-je?"

Sebastian didn't know what the boy had said, but his voice was lachrymose. He shifted the hand supporting the boys back up into his hair and cradled the boys head, hoping to comfort him. Looking down he saw that Ciel was bleary, confused. The boy's dark eyelashes kissed his sullen cheeks and Sebastian's heart flooded with relief. There was still a faint smear of blood across his cheek and it made him swallow nervously.

"I'm taking you home," Sebastian reassured, heart hammering at how distressed Ciel looked.

"Sebastian ne me sens pas désolé pour moi," Ciel whined, squirming only to have Sebastian grip him tighter. "Me mettre vers le bas, je peux marcher."

Sebastian frowned, wishing he knew more French. Instead he picked up his pace, ignoring how brutally cold it was. Ciel's thin body provided little warmth, and the sweat on both their bodies was starting to freeze. Ciel reached up and grabbed the side of Sebastian's jaw, scowling up at him with a dazed expression. The grip hurt but Sebastian allowed it, thankful Ciel was moving at least.

"I've got you," he reassured, rubbing the back of Ciel's hair softly.

"Vous êtes conne."

The boys hand remained latched onto his jaw and Sebastian gazed down at the raw skin on the thin wrist below. The skin had been completely grated off by the ropes, and was pink and wet, exposed. He thought of the medicine box he had hidden in the cottage, knowing he'd be able to finally help someone with them. Resting the boy on one arm he lightly reached up and circled his large hand around the juncture, pressing the pads of his fingers lightly into the trauma. After all the years of watching, learning, wondering, Sebastian was ready to clean the wound, watch it heal, make Ciel better.

Ciel was too weak to protest to the touch, and allowed his wrist to be placed back in his lap. The sturdy grip Sebastian had on him felt safe, welcoming, and he easily slipped back into unconsciousness. As soon as Sebastian felt the boys head fall back onto his chest he hitched his body up against and stepped over the low gate onto church grounds.

"I'll protect you," Sebastian said lowly, although Ciel could not hear him. _I'll heal you_, he said to himself. He should have been more concerned with the fact that he would go against his father's wishes tonight and practice medicine, but currently he was too obsessed with the heartbeat that bonded his cargo to his chest.

Opening his cottage door seemed to be an obstacle with a body draped over his chest, but shortly Sebastian was able to place Ciel onto the wooden chest at the foot of his bed, laying him down on his side so he could quickly start a fire.

Once a warm glow flickered in the small cottage, the priest turned around to see Ciel sitting up, his head poking out of the top of the jacket, his one eye blinking blearily. Sebastian smiled at how pathetic the boy looked, but the sight hurt his heart. He walked over to the wooden chest and began unwrapping Ciel from the thick jacket, and the flimsy night gown plastered to his sweating skin. Ciel didn't fight too much, grumbled when Sebastian had to lift his legs to slide the panty hose from his thighs. Sebastian frowned as the action smeared fluid down the sides of Ciel's thighs and his body went stiff.

"Ciel _how_ did this happen..."

Ciel didn't answer immediately, just shifted to cross his legs and hide his shame. When he did answer his voice has coarse, quiet, stern.

"It does pay vell," he said, not meeting the priests gaze. "I needed it..."

Sebastian shook his head, kneeling in front of Ciel's naked body. "I don't understand what gratification can be created from _hurting_ you..."

"Ee did not 'urt me!" Ciel snapped defensively, finally staring Sebastian in the eye, livid. "You cannot understand!" Ciel's shoulders shook with exertion and he took a deep, stuttering breath, gripping the edge of the wooden chest, so he didn't topple over. Coughing roughly he shrunk away from Sebastian. "You do not..." He wheezed quietly, tears from the violent cough lingering in the corner of his eye.

It was true. Sebastian sat back on his heels, speechless. How could he say anything, when Ciel was so upset? He _didn't_ understand. He didn't know why Ciel would let himself be tied up and left alone and naked. He watched Ciel apologetically, his eyebrows knitted as he pushed the hair off his brow.

"What if I hadn't found you, Ciel, what were you going to do?"

Ciel shook his head, refusing to say anymore. He was tired and covered in filth, and he was ashamed beyond anything. He flinched slightly as Sebastian began to dab a damp cloth onto his skin, but didn't say a word.

Sebastian wrung the cloth and dipped it back into the water, running the linen over Ciel's dirty legs. The limbs were pale and smooth, almost flawless bar for the scars on his kneecaps. Sebastian cleaned Ciel's forearms, his shoulders, and finally dabbed delicately around the flesh on his raw wrists.

"Fuck," Ciel swore, the word ringing out in the silent room, making Sebastian's hair stand on end.

"Ciel," Sebastian started in a stern voice, holding the cloth to the scraped wounds.

"It _fucking_ 'urts Sebastian," hissed Ciel, clenching his teeth as warm water soaked into his skin.

"Don't curse," Sebastian warned again, grabbing Ciel's fingers and squeezing them until he groaned. He hated to treat him like a child but he insisted on acting like one. Ciel sealed his lips shut and looked over Sebastian's shoulder moodily, flinching when Sebastian applied the cloth again.

"_Fucking shit_," he whispered lowly. Sebastian sighed, but gave in, mentally shuddering every time the Parisian swore. _In his bedroom, a few yards from the church_. Well, he supposed Ciel's curse words weren't the most sacrilegious actions that had taken place recently.

Sebastian stood to drag the cloth softly over Ciel's cheek, using his thumb to clean the blood from his cheek. As he gripped the side of the boy's face his fingers ghosted against the sides of his eye patch.

"Did you use the medicine I gave you?" He asked, noticing the redness had cleared slightly in the hours since giving the boy the antiseptic. Ciel nodded into his hand, frowning deeply. He didn't seem to be in the mood to talk, so Sebastian crossed dutifully to his dresser and opened his wooden medical box. One pot of antiseptic had already been given to Ciel, and only one remained. Picking up the smooth pot, he also plucked a fresh parcel of bandages from the box, and brought them over to Ciel. Grabbing a folded sheet from the edge of his bed, he wrapped the linen over Ciel's shoulders, allowing the boy to cover himself.

"I'm going to put this on your wrists, so they don't become infected," he explained, but Ciel stared back at him with an expression that either read _I don't understand what you said_ or _I don't care_. Either way, Sebastian took the look as consent.

Ciel jerked back his hand and cried out when Sebastian dabbed the healing cream onto Ciel's sores. "Oh God fuck!" He yelled, clutching his hand like it had been burnt.

"**CIEL**!" Ciel's jaw stiffened at the loud shout that came from the priest kneeling before him. Sebastian's eyes were wide and bewildered, and he looked furious. "You _can't_ say that! You can't say the Lord's name in vain!" He strained his seriousness when he spoke, standing up to look Ciel down. The boy was sheepish, still clutching his wrist like it was a precious jewel. He chewed the bottom of his lip, his cheeks huffed red from the embarrassment of the lecture he was given.

"I know it stings, Ciel, but surely this isn't the _worst_ pain you've been through in your life." Sebastian tightened his lips and gazed at Ciel's good eye, and then quickly to the one covered by the eye patch. Ciel gave a small nod, releasing his wrist so that Sebastian could continue to clean it. The next time the linen touched his skin Ciel's eye watered and he tensed hard, hissing through his teeth. He tried to distract himself by looking at Sebastian's huge hand wrapped around his little wrist. The man's fingers circled his joint easily, pressing firmly into his skin to keep him from moving away. When he pressed the stinging ointment to the raw skin again Ciel leaned forward and grabbed a tuft of black hair with his free hand.

"Sebastian, _shit_," he swore again, tightening his grip into the man's hair. The priest began to wonder if he was only swearing in English to be cheeky. A particularly sensitive spot on the skinned wrist had Ciel yell shrilly and yank at the fistful of hair he had in his hand. Sebastian's head was jerked backwards and he grunted loudly, gritting his teeth as he was practically scalped.

"It still 'urts!" Ciel cried, glaring down at the head he had hostage between his legs. Through his pain he regarded how gorgeous Sebastian looked right now, submissively on his knees, hair back, eyebrows folded in pain, jaw tense, and yet that expression of selflessness and _wanting to help_ remained in his eyes. It was painfully beautiful to behold, and he released Sebastian's hair softly, running his fingers through it to smooth it back into place.

Once released, Sebastian wrapped bandages around the battered flesh and secured it neatly with a pin. "There we go, it wasn't that bad was it?" Sebastian smiled gently, proud of his handiwork. Ciel shook his head gently, unable to be rude to a man that handsome. Sebastian's hair was slicked back to his head, and he was only wearing a white shirt. Ciel had never seen his forearms this closely before, and he let his fingers trail over the firm, forbidden flesh. There was a pleasant pause of silence between the two until Sebastian unwisely broke it.

"Okay, let's do the other one."

...

With Ciel's wrists both wrapped tightly in bandage they looked even smaller than first assumed. Sebastian made a mental note to buy bread and potatoes after mass the next day, in hopes to fatten the young man up. Although seemingly clean Sebastian knew that there was still a horrible mess between his legs. He was nervous to address it, but it seemed Ciel read his mind.

"I've got it," Ciel said, reaching out for the cloth and standing. Before Sebastian turned his back he appreciated how white Ciel looked, even while bathed in candlelight. He stood there, looking at his kitchen while Ciel cleaned himself. All that could be heard were the soft drips of falling water, and an occasional whimper from Ciel. The boy shivered as he cleaned between his legs, hunching pathetically as he bit back another pained moan. It stung horribly, and he was embarrassed. Still, he was thankful the priest hadn't attempted to clean him. He was disgusting enough as is, he didn't need to give the man more reasons to hate him. Sebastian waited silently, feeling guilty every time Ciel mumbled in pain. Once he heard the soiled cloth drop back into the bucket of water he turned around to wrap Ciel in one of his own shirts. Ciel laughed lowly as the man buttoned the oversized garment on him, shaking the sleeves so his hands could emerge from the fabric. He yawned, still bleary, but content at Sebastian's smell all around him.

"Come on, you need to sleep," Sebastian urged, pulling Ciel over to the side of the neatly made bed. "Up you go," he said as he lifted Ciel's little body, the boy wrapping his arms around his neck so he could be carried and placed onto the bed. As soon as his back touched the mattress he was sound asleep, arms still locked around Sebastian's neck. The priest tried to back out, tried to remove himself from the grip, but Ciel fussed and tightened it, his face distorting from his expression of peaceful unconsciousness.

Defeated, Sebastian awkwardly crawled onto the bed, head still locked in Ciel's embrace. His legs were too long to maneuver over the prostitute's body so he squatted unnaturally by Ciel's chest, trying to flatten himself to the mattress so he too could get some sleep. Thankfully Ciel shifted as he felt Sebastian lay down, and the boy curled into the taller man's chest, nudged his head into his broad shoulder. Giving an awkward pat to Ciel's head Sebastian closed his eyes to try go to sleep. As he let himself succumb to his subconscious he wondered idly if _thou shall not lay with another man_ applied itself to this situation.

...

Morning mass went as it typically did. Sebastian and Claude welcomed church-goers into their sacred hall, standing in the morning sunlight. It was still bitterly cold, but the sun had melted the frost from the night before, making the gardens muddy. As Sebastian bowed his head at a young lady he cast a sideways look at Claude, trying to read his expression. His elder looked as he always did, solemn, dutiful. He showed no signs of knowing Sebastian had a prostitute sleeping in his bedroom.

When the priest had awoken that morning Ciel had thankfully released his hold on his neck, and had curled into a small ball facing the opposite direction. He didn't stir as Sebastian dressed for mass, but he left a glass of water and some tasteless biscuits by the side of the bed in case he woke before he returned.

At midday Sebastian returned to his cottage with an armful of goods he'd purchased at the markets one block from the church. Ciel was sitting up in bed smoking, still dressed in the oversized shirt, his legs tucked neatly beneath him.

He smiled slightly as Sebastian opened the door, taking another drag before smoldering his cigarette onto the plate beside him. Sebastian's nostrils flared as he picked up the ashy scent in his bedroom, and he stared distastefully at the smoke that Ciel had just put out.

"I wish you wouldn't smoke inside," he said, placing his groceries down on his table. Ciel got up from the bed and wandered over to the food, peaking at the fresh loaf of bread that was radiating a delicious scent. He couldn't remember the last time he'd had _warm_ bread.

"I could not go out," Ciel retorted, pouting as he continued to eye the bread. To his delight Sebastian removed the loaf from its paper packaging and took a knife from its place in the kitchen.

"Are you hungry?" He asked, and Ciel nodded violently, his stomach singing in agreement. Sebastian cut a generous amount from the loaf, and handed it over.

"How do you feel?" Sebastian waited for an answer as Ciel took a bite into the bread, and was rather impressed with the etiquette he took despite the fact he was starving. He supposed Ciel had what his father would call an _old soul_, his manners exceeded the life he had lived.

After swallowing his bite Ciel looked up at Sebastian giving a short shrug. "Okay," he said, wishing he could elaborate. Sometimes he felt so stupid for not being able to speak to Sebastian fluently, not being able to express his exact sentiments in English. The book he was reading was helping, slowly, and after a moment Ciel spoke again, nervous he would butcher the simple English sentence.

"My arms do not 'urt very much," he said slowly, relaxing when Sebastian accepted the sentence, and was visibly pleased.

"Your English is getting really good," he smiled, proudly.

"Thank you," Ciel swung back with confidence, grinning.

Unfortunately Sebastian had to return to the church that afternoon for a few hours, but he left the bread out for Ciel, encouraging him to take as much as he needed, and to help himself to anything he may desire. Ciel followed him around until he had to leave, practicing small English sentences. When Sebastian walked out the door Ciel easily bid him goodbye, and locked up the door behind him. Now, how would he keep himself occupied until night fall?

...

Sebastian finished his work as the last rays of sunshine disappeared behind the spires of the sacred heart church. He'd just finished sweeping the great hall and was looking forward to retiring for the night. He did not have to wake up early the next day and he relaxed, knowing he could finally tend to Ciel properly. The boy, however, seemed to have entirely different ideas.

When Sebastian entered his cottage he knew something was off. Ciel was where he'd left him, on the bed, in the white shirt, but he was hunched over and his cheeks were red.

"Ciel?" Sebastian asked in greeting, hanging his robes by the door. The boy lifted his head slowly, and that's when the priest noticed the bottle nursed in his hands.

"Are you _drunk_?" He asked incredulously, striding over to the bedside to snatch the glass bottle in Ciel's lap. Ciel shook his head slowly, a pained expression on his face. Sebastian's anger flared as he read the label on the bottle.

"Ciel this is for medicinal purposes!" He said angrily, furious that a third of the liquid had been consumed. The alcohol was used for cleansing wounds, it wasn't easy for a priest to purchase and Ciel had drank it!

"I am using it for medicinal purposes," Ciel said very slowly, looking mournfully at the bottle. His eye was red, and his eyelashes were clumped together. He had been crying. Sebastian gave a sigh, knowing he could never be mad at the boy. He reasoned with himself that it truly was medicinal in this case.

"Drink it," Ciel said, pushing his mop of slate hair back from his face. Sebastian laughed, giving Ciel an amused look.

"Priests do not drink," he explained, as if it were a fact of life.

"'Ave one drink," Ciel pleaded, reaching out to grab Sebastian's hand. He gave a look that he knew he wouldn't have managed if he were sober, a small, sad pout. Sebastian looked down at the bottle in his hands and shook his head, still unsure.

"I can't..." Even as he said those words he couldn't think of a single reason why he shouldn't. He had never had a single drink in his lifetime, not even a drop of wine. He'd be lying if he said he'd never considered it.

"I need you to drink it," Ciel said very seriously, but Sebastian couldn't help but smile at the way Ciel clung to him. He relaxed his shoulders and eyed the bottle again, bringing it close to his face.

"Okay."

Ciel cocked back his head and laughed as Sebastian spluttered alcohol messily down his chin. The priest hissed, opening his mouth as the strong sting of the drink burnt his tongue. Ciel lost it, gripping the bed sheets and laughing so hard he didn't make a sound. After catching his breath, and an embarrassed glare from Sebastian, he convinced him to try again, and swallow this time.

Sebastian was slow to warm up to the taste. He took a few tentative sips before Ciel encouraged him to take a deep gulp, it wasn't as bad done that way. A pleasant feeling began in his stomach as he sat on the bed facing Ciel, passing the bottle back and forth between them. Admittedly, the priest felt guilty, but that feeling passed as the alcohol took over. His head felt heavy and he slumped on the mattress, forgetting about his usual composure.

Ciel pushed his bare legs against Sebastian's knees, stretching out on the bed, handling his drink a little easier than the older man. Sebastian looked ridiculously cute, he thought. His cheeks were red and he was smiling, always, at everything Ciel said. His shirt was untucked and his suspenders were slipped over his shoulders. His sleeves were even pushed up and his top button undone.

"I've never done this before," Sebastian explained after sipping from the bottle. "Something bad, I've never done anything bad, _never_," he elaborated, his eyes wide as he emphasized _never_. Ciel laughed, leaning back on his hands.

"Never?" Ciel echoed, grinning at the inebriated priest. Sebastian shook his head.

"I have _never_ drank, and I have _never_ stolen, and I have certainly _never_ had a prostitute as a friend."

Ciel's heart skipped when he heard the word friend and he smiled oddly to himself. "Friend?"

Sebastian nodded, reaching out to hand the bottle back to Ciel. His face was open and honest, smiling.

"Well," Ciel paused to take a drink. "I 'ave _never_ met priest, or _friend_ with priest, or _drank_ with priest!" Ciel was quiet for a moment with a strange smile lingering on his lips. Shyly, he added, "I 'ave not 'ave friend before."

Sebastian smiled with all of his teeth, a hazy look in his eyes from the alcohol. "You're my first friend," Sebastian beamed with a confidence he couldn't have managed sober. Ciel laughed at the stupid smile on the man's face, looking away because it embarrassed him.

"We make odd pair," Ciel added, his cheeks red, unable to look at the u bridled smile from the other. Sebastian stopped grinning and suddenly made a serious face.

"You mean, no man has ever courted you, after..." Ciel raised an eyebrow.

"After vhat?"

"After you m-made love with him," Sebastian stumbled, looking up at Ciel with painfully innocent eyes. Ciel scoffed bitterly, waving his hand in dismissal.

"I don't make love," he said sharply, sneering at the words. "There is no love, it is quick, and means nothing." Sebastian looked down at his hands sheepishly, feeling silly for phrasing Ciel's work in such a way.

"I'm sorry," the priest apologized, wringing his huge hands in a way that knotted Ciel's stomach. "I just thought, because you touch them, and you kiss them-"

"I don't kiss," Ciel rebutted very quickly. He stared seriously at Sebastian, shaking his head. Sebastian opened his mouth to ask why, but Ciel cut him off.

"Its special," he muttered, pained. "I am save it." Sebastian gave a little smile, hope rising in his drunk heart as he clasped Ciel's shoulder excitedly.

"So your lips are virginal," he grinned, and Ciel hardly had the heart to tell him how much cock he'd sucked in his life. Instead he bit back a laugh and took another drink.

It wasn't long before Sebastian got another kink in his brow, and Ciel knew his mind was reeling again. Finally gathering his thoughts, Sebastian asked Ciel another question.

"If it means nothing, how does it feel good?" Ciel was once again taken back by Sebastian's lack of understanding. Things weren't as black and white as the man assumed, Ciel lived his life in shades of grey.

"It does _not_ feel good," Ciel admittedly suddenly, surprised at even his own revelation. His eye was wide as he heard himself say those words. "They only want to feel good, I make myself feel good after they leave..." Ciel ended his sentence with shame, trailing off. Sebastian was looking at him with a confused expression, head cocked to the side like a stupid dog.

"With my 'and..." Ciel continued slowly, waiting until Sebastian caught on. The priest suddenly gasped and sat up, making the connection.

"_**Oh**__**!**_" He exclaimed, face turned dark with embarrassment. "I... I understand now," he muttered. Ciel's mood lifted as he smiled at the poor priest before him.

"Do not tell me you 'ave never _touched yourself_, father," Ciel grinned slyly.

"Ciel!" Sebastian chastised, scowling at the boy. "Of course I've _never_, it's sinful!" Ciel laughed at the priest, who was sharing a bottle of alcohol with a homosexual prostitute.

"You sin a lot," Ciel purred, enjoying the way the priest squirmed. "I think one more sin won't 'urt." By now Sebastian looked as if he were in pain, but Ciel loved it. He knew the man was curious, he knew he could never help himself once the seed had been planted in his mind. And he was right, Sebastian was racked with guilt as he considered sinning in such a filthy way. He hated to turn his back to the church, to God, but he was helpless to Ciel. The boy would never try to hurt him, would he? Sebastian struggled to find an answer and instead hung his head, rubbing the back of his neck nervously.

"I will never do that," he said lowly, but both men in the room knew that was a lie.

...

In the early moments of midnight Sebastian found himself lying flat on his back, Ciel by his side, speaking into the now dark apartment. A glow from the fireplace lit one end of the room, and it was enough for the man to see the outline of Ciel's face. The boy had delighted when Sebastian moved close to him and asked "can I tell you a secret?"

Ciel turned his head towards Sebastian, facing him and nodding. Sebastian was telling him partly because he trusted him, but mostly because he was drunk.

"I like science."

Ciel chuckled in the dark, his grin visible as the fire light flickered on his features.

"Why?" Ciel asked, snickering at Sebastian's childish excitement. _That wasn't expected, and the boy was intrigued. _

"Did you know your heart beats over two million times in your lifetime?"

Ciel's eye widened and he whispered _really_? Sebastian nodded enthusiastically, smiling at Ciel's interest. "That's seventy-two beats per minute," the priest whispered. Ciel smiled, pressing his hand over his heart, feeling his pulse through his shirt. Sebastian moved his hand over to Ciel's chest, taking his hand and removing it from his heart.

"May I?" He asked, waiting until Ciel nodded. Sebastian edged his hand under the cloth of Ciel's long shirt, his knuckles brushing against naked thigh. Ciel's breath hitched as his shirt was pushed upwards, over his undergarments, over his belly, until his abdomen was exposed to the warm cottage air.

"Vhat are you doing?" Ciel breathed, gasping quietly as Sebastian's warm, flat hand smoothed over his stomach and slid up under his shirt until it rested over his heart. Ciel fluttered his eyelid and bit down on his lip as the heel of Sebastian's hand brushed over his nipple. The priest firmly pressed down on the flesh, until Ciel could feel the man's heartbeat through his hand.

"It takes blood twenty seconds to circulate around your entire body," Sebastian said, completely enamored by the pulse he felt under his hand. Ciel held his breath, laying like a stunned animal, shirt pushed above his stomach, a thick arm pushed under his clothes. _If he wasn't so damn drunk he would never touch you like this_, Ciel reminded himself, struggling to breath.

"That is _fascinating_," Ciel breathed out, staring at the ceiling. He couldn't stand to look at Sebastian, who had that wonderstruck expression all over his face. He hoped, also, that Sebastian would not see the horrendously obvious erection straining against his undergarments.

After a few moments of silence, Ciel turned his head to look at the man beside him, who now had his eyes closed peacefully, a little frown on his face as he concentrated on each little pulse that radiated from Ciel's heart. He took the chance to roll to his side, moving closer to Sebastian to hide his obvious excitement from sight. Sebastian opened his eyes when Ciel moved, but the boy was already sliding his hand under Sebastian's shirt. The priest allowed him, docilely, not fussing when his shirt was shuffled above his abdomen. Ciel breathed out his nose sharply, making sure to drag his hand over the hard muscle as he made his way up. _He's built like a God damn soldier_, Ciel mulled, feeling a lot hotter than he had before. His long torso seemed to last forever, the prostitute savored the time it took to reach his pectoral, until he curled his hand around the muscled flesh. Ciel was almost surprised to feel a heartbeat through that thick wall of flesh, but there it was, quaking beneath his fingertips. His gaze was so focused on his hand pressed into Sebastian, and the priest's milky stomach that he didn't notice the man's eyes on him. He looked up to find himself trapped under a curious stare.

"What happened to your eye?" Sebastian whispered into the dark, noticing immediately when Ciel's heart beat sped up. Ciel pulled back his hand and moved it over his face, checking that his eye patch hadn't shifted out of place. When he realize the priest had seen nothing, he relaxed, but his face was grim.

"I lost it..." Ciel muttered back quickly, not wanting to take the subject any further. Instead of feeding Sebastian's curiosity he had only fueled it more.

"Oh," he replied stupidly, staring into the dark. There was a horrible silence for a few moments, and then Ciel shuffled back closer to Sebastian.

"Cold," he said shortly, pressing his head under Sebastian's chin, balling his fists up against that firm chest. Sebastian immediately wrapped an arm around Ciel's narrow waist, drawing him in closer.

"You're so little," Sebastian slurred, somewhere between drunk and asleep. Ciel felt his large hands grab each side of his waist and give a squeeze, making Ciel grunt. He didn't know his own strength.

"I bought you potatoes," Sebastian mumbled. His mouth was against Ciel's head, shifting his hair as he spoke. "I'll cook you potatoes tomorrow, you're too skinny." Ciel laughed softly, resting his hand on Sebastian's hip, daringly allowing his fingers to slip under the hem of the priest's shirt again. The skin on his hip was hot and smooth, and Ciel traced little circles there, pleased when Sebastian hummed deep in his chest.

"I would be dead if you not find me," Ciel said slowly, breathing in Sebastian's scent deeply. Sebastian curled one hand around the back of Ciel's head and another around his waist and tugged him even tighter to his body, hugging him so hard Ciel forgot how to breathe.

"Won't let you die," Sebastian mumbled drunkenly, trailing off into a yawn. "I'll always be here."

Ciel's heart tightened as he raised his head slowly, sitting up a little to look down at Sebastian's face. The man was passed out, eyes shut, mouth slightly open, his head craned back with his throat jutting upwards from his collar. Ciel smiled weakly, feeling incredibly heartbroken. He'd found the only truly good man in all of Paris, and he would never, _ever_ have him. Ciel longingly pressed his nose into Sebastian's throat, scrunching his brow as he silently cursed. Swallowing his frustration he relaxed his face and pressed his mouth softly against the smooth skin of Sebastian's neck. Placing a little kiss on the clean skin, Ciel settled down beside the priest and fell into a deep sleep.

...

Ciel woke with a start, a cry already out of his lips before he could stop himself. He panted, bringing his sleeve to his head so he could wipe the sweat off his brow. Even in the winter, Ciel's nightmare had made him burn up. He was safe though, which he came to accept as he took in his surrounding again, remembering he had stayed with Sebastian for a second night. The bed beside him was empty, and made neatly on one side. Ciel frowned at the precision, looking up to see said priest by the fireplace.

"Good morning," Sebastian said, looking immaculate. Ciel wondered when the man had had time to bathe and get dressed before he had woken up. His hair looked slightly damp, pushed back from his face, and he was wearing a clean shirt, neatly pressed, suspenders stretched over his shoulders. Ciel on the other hand felt like death warmed up. Rubbing the heel of his hand into his eye he groaned, distastefully running his tongue over the taste of last night's beverages.

"Morning," he muttered, pulling his nightshirt back down over his hips. A pleasant smell wafted through the apartment, and Ciel recognized boiled potatoes, cooking over the fireplace in a large caldron. Rising from the bed Ciel did his best to make his side of the sheets, but his effort was miserable. Giving up he took a seat at the round table, hunching over the wood. The light outside was bright, filtered by thin curtains. It was already mid-morning, by the looks of it.

"How do you feel?" Sebastian asked, using a towel to remove the large pot of potatoes from the fire. Ciel watched him lazily, feeling utterly groggy.

"Okay," he croaked, wishing he could smoke. The temptation of tobacco was ignored once a plate of potatoes was sat down before him, and he greedily dug a fork into the vegetable.

Memories of last night consumed him as he stuffed potato into his mouth. Did Sebastian remember anything about it? Ciel looked over at Sebastian, who sat opposite at the table, neatly cutting his potatoes into quarters.

"'Ow you feel?" Ciel asked after swallowing his mouthful.

"Queasy," Sebastian admitted, rubbing his hand over his forearm. Ciel didn't know what that word meant. "I don't really remember anything, the memories are really blurry..." Ciel nodded, his heart sunk a little in his chest. _He'd probably meant nothing of anything he said then_.

"Sorry," Ciel said, feeling guilty about luring the priest to drink. Now, sober, he realized it was a disgusting idea. Sebastian smiled his apology away, shrugging his big shoulders.

"I got to learn more about you," he expressed with a warm smile, not regretting anything. Ciel mentally cursed, he really was impossible to taint. He put down his fork and nested his head into his hand, leaning over the table as he watched Sebastian finish his meal. The priest looked at his empty plate then back at him.

"Do you want some more?" Ciel shook his head. "You only had _six_ Ciel. You're going to waste away if you don't gain weight." Ciel sent a sharp glare across the table at the rude comment, but Sebastian stared back with an equally aggressive expression.

Ciel ate four more potatoes. He felt so full he could burst at the seams, but Sebastian was proud of him. Ciel reasoned that he'd would probably cut off his own fingers if Sebastian told him too, if it made Sebastian proud. The man's infectious good mood pulled Ciel out of his slump, and he helped the priest clear the scraps and dishes.

At midday Ciel cleaned himself with a sponge and a bucket of water. Standing naked in Sebastian's apartment he dragged the sponge over his collar bone, letting the excess water roll down his ribs. He was still bruised from Grell, but they were fading quickly, leaving only yellow blotches. His wrists still felt stiff beneath his bandages though, and he didn't dare to look at the damage between his legs.

Sebastian was sitting at the table behind him, with his back turned. He had a book propped open in his hands and he read aloud from it, encouraging Ciel to use full, English sentences.

"I am feeling well today, repeat."

Ciel rolled his eyes and dipped the sponge back into the soapy water, cleaning his arms with it now.

"I am feel vell today," Ciel called back, blushing. He couldn't quite grasp that word.

"Good," the older congratulated. "How are you? Repeat."

"'Ow are you?" Ciel said, digging dirt from under his nails.

"Ciel, can you pronounce h?" Ciel ignored the man, scowling. He felt embarrassed enough as it was. When Ciel said nothing Sebastian smirked down at his book.

"Horse. Repeat."

Ciel hesitated, nothing but the sound of water droplets in the little cottage. "... 'orse."

"Hospital."

"'Ospitsal." Sebastian pressed his hand to his mouth so Ciel wouldn't hear him laugh.

"Just say h," he said through gritted teeth so he wouldn't snicker. Ciel was quiet for a long time but Sebastian waited patiently. The boy was mouthing the letter quietly with his mouth, practicing.

"Aach," Ciel said quickly, groaning immediately afterwards, knowing he hadn't said it right. "Aach!" He yelled, moaning in dissatisfaction. "Fuck!"

Sebastian could finally hold back his laughter no more and he cackled loudly, his voice was warm and it riled Ciel up.

"Shut up!" Ciel yelled, aiming his sponge at the back of Sebastian's unaware head. The wet material smacked the priest hard in the skull, but it only made him laugh harder.

"You're 'oribble!" Ciel cried out, clenching his fists, but Sebastian hunched himself over the kitchen table, screaming in amusement.

...

Sebastian had salvaged more clothes from the churches charity donations, managing to find an entire outfit that almost fit Ciel. He was small for his age, but anything made for anyone younger didn't fit Ciel's long limbs.

Sebastian helped the boy to button up a shirt a little too large for him, and let him pull on pants that let his ankle show. His boots would cover that. Sebastian gave Ciel a pair of his own suspenders, and the gift had made the boy speechless. Well, that, and the fear of his accent making Sebastian laugh again. It was late afternoon that Ciel announced his departure, wanting to leave the cottage before night fell completely.

Sebastian looked disappointed. "You can't stay?" He asked, and Ciel felt guilty. He couldn't stay. He'd overstayed his welcome, even if Sebastian didn't know it. Life in the cottage, with Sebastian, it was idyllic beyond anything Ciel had ever experienced. But Ciel couldn't spend another night without being paid, he had rent that he couldn't hardly afford, and he couldn't live on borrowed potatoes forever. With a heavy heart he shook his head and laced his ratty boots.

"There are some things I cannot do in your bed," Ciel smiled weakly. He shouldn't have become so attached to the pathetic look the priest gave him.

"You're going to..." Sebastian trailed off. He was mad, but he masked it well.

"I 'ave to," Ciel said, walking up to stand in front of Sebastian. He squeezed the man's forearm apologetically.

"You don't have to live this life," Sebastian protested one more time, desperate to stop Ciel from returning to his old habits. Ciel ached, he absolutely ached, wishing he could stay. But there were deep, dark debts in Ciel's life that Sebastian would _never_ know about, and for that reason he had to go.

"I do," Ciel muttered, leaning in to bump his head oddly against Sebastian's chest. It was an affectionate move, but Sebastian just ghosted his hand over Ciel's shoulder in an almost-hug.

Sebastian allowed Ciel to wear his jacket home, because it was so bitterly frigid outside. He also knew that he'd have an excuse to see Ciel tomorrow, under guise of collecting his garment.

Ciel was buried in Sebastian's scent, it was delicious, and he nuzzled his nose into the large lapel of Sebastian's jacket as he hopped the church grounds fence. The sun was setting quickly, and Ciel kept a quick pace, not wanting to be out after dark. His apartment came into sight just as sun set, and there was an echo of rowdy gentlemen from the nearby tavern drifting through the tall walls of the city.

Emerging from an alley Ciel wasn't surprised to see a man waiting outside of his apartment for him. He needed to be paid tonight. Even the generous amount Bard had left him was not enough to make up for the two nights Ciel hadn't worked.

When he got closer Ciel could see the customer wasn't a man, but a boy, maybe his own age or even younger. He looked nervous, skittish to be hanging around this part of town, and Ciel didn't blame him. He was wearing a beautiful coat, he looked a lot wealthier than him.

"Hello," Ciel greeted as he reached his own apartment, the kid looking up from his feet to meet Ciel's gaze. The boy was taller than him, but only by a few inches. He had large, green eyes that gave Ciel a once over, lingering a fraction too long on his eye patch, like most people did.

"Are you Ciel?" Ciel nodded, smiling with all the charm he could muster. He delighted in the way a John would squirm when face to face with him.

"You're as beautiful as they said!" The boy breathed, grinning widely. Ciel blinked, his eyebrow raised. That was different. His cheeks heated against his will, and suddenly his guise of proud and confident faltered. Deciding to ignore the compliment, Ciel gave a little smile instead, tucking his hair back off his face so this kid could see how beautiful he really was.

"What's your name?" He asked, taking in the blonde haired teenager before him. "Do you want me to make you feel good?"

"My name is Finny," the blonde introduced, "and I want you to take my virginity."

...

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	11. Envy

**Hello beautifuls, how are you? I've been taking a break from writing but I'm back now, hopefully, maybe… Don't hate me for this chapter. It's necessary for maximum romance further down the track. Please review so I can collect all 7 dragonballs and gain ultimate power.**

**Once again, as always, this story is for robovacation, my girlfriend of over two years. When I get all the dragonballs I'm gonna use them to fly over to America forever.**

Ciel didn't know if his parents died, or if they abandoned him, but his disposition about the matter wouldn't change either way. He didn't care what the reason was, because he couldn't remember.

He was an orphan.

Ciel showed up at the orphanage when he was ten. He had nothing on him but the clothes he wore. No possessions, no memories. The women who worked at the orphanage speculated he was the child of an immigrant, shuffled between country lines, and lost in the hustle. It was a kinder guess then the women who assumed he was insane. They set him up with a lumpy brass bed in a room with fifteen other boys, ages five to seventeen. In the coming years Ciel watched each and every one of them leave.

There was no interest in any family adopting Ciel, but he had no qualms with this. He wasn't interested in being adopted, and showed this by keeping mostly to himself. He lost his baby face, and any hope of him finding a new home was lost once adolesce marred his boyish features. What one may have called a _cute scowl_ was now an ugly grimace.

When Ciel was fourteen he'd decided he'd had enough of confined life. There was a small shop across from the orphanage, and few houses here and there, scattered in and out of the woods. Besides these small places, Ciel hadn't seen a thing of the world. There were many nights where he would sit by the rippled glass windows and admire the glow from the city that lay hidden, miles and miles away.

_Paris._

With a week's worth of stolen bread and cheese in his pockets, Ciel slipped into the night one bitter autumn evening. The air was frigid but his brisk steps kept him warm, until the sun began to peek above the tree line. It was dawn when Ciel peaked the top of a large rise in the earth, and took his first look at the city of love. The night's journey had been rewarded as soon as he lay eyes on the gleaming, beautiful rooftops of his new home.

The first week was difficult, but not as hard as he first imagined it would be. He rationed his bread, and kept out of sight, although no one took any mind of a small boy wandering the streets. There were more people here than Ciel had seen in his entire life, more things to see than he ever thought possible. Every bone of his curious body was sated with each day he spent in the city, his new freedom lulling him to sleep when he made a temporary bed in parks and warm alleyways.

The second week, however, was when the excitement begun to die. Ciel's bread was down to a few pitiful crumbs, and his thoughts of stealing were rather glum. With the cold weather many street vendors began to move their goods indoors, thwarting any of the boy's chances. The cold posed more problems than one, too.

When Ciel first woke with frost on his lips and nose, he knew it wouldn't be long until the nights turned so cold he would freeze in his sleep. He spent the next day scouting for possible sleeping nooks, empty houses, and forgotten buildings. His searches lead him to a tavern, with warm light that spilled out onto the streets, drawing in customers from the streets. There were men inside, packed closely together, drinking, laughing loudly. There were so many people in there that Ciel knew he would not be noticed if he slipped into the thin passage between buildings to rummage through the tavern's garbage.

Bent over the rim of a steel bin, Ciel had just cleared enough junk out of the way to curl his hand around a discarded, slightly soggy hunk of bread. The smell of the trash infused in the dough made Ciel ill to his stomach, but he didn't have much of a choice. It's then when he felt a large hand slap onto his shoulder and yank him upright.

"What do you think you're doing, _rat_?" Spat a venomous voice from behind him. Ciel went rigid, dropping the slice of bread to his feet. Annoyed, he struggled with the grasp on his collar, and wriggled around to face his attacker.

"What does it matter to you?" Ciel growled, eyeing up the man before him. He was tall, extremely tall compared to the young teenager, and thick in the neck and hands. A grin cracked over the man's sloppy features and he laughed loudly in Ciel's face.

"What a brat!" He spat, releasing his handful of clothing. His laughter fuelled Ciel's anger and he pushing the older man roughly in the stomach, side-stepping away so he could slip out of the man's proximity. "You're just a little boy." The man followed him with his eyes, spinning on his heels so he could watch the youngling back himself against the opposite wall of the alley.

"What are you doing out here on your own? Someone might eat you up." The stranger said these words with amusement thick in his voice, taking note of the riled up youth before him. Ciel dug his short nails into the grimy walls behind him and took a deep breath. He hadn't realised he'd been holding it.

"I'm looking for food," he said quickly, ignoring the wobble in his voice. For a moment he looked up at the man with vulnerability in his face, hoping, desperately he would take pity on him. The stranger forced out a laugh, looking from Ciel's eyes, to his nose, to his lips. The boy was completely for the taking.

"Do you want this?" Asked the man, suddenly sombre. He held a small burlap bag in his fist, and when he shook it, coins rattled around inside. Ciel couldn't help the involuntary nod he gave, thinking of nothing else but his hunger, and the enveloping cold he braved every night. The tall man gave another laugh, but this one was different from all of the rest. Darker, knowledgeable.

"Turn around, put your arms on the wall."

And that's how Ciel Phantomhive lost his virginity.

…

Finny looked far too young to be in a place like _this_, at a time like _this_, but the small blonde swore he was 19, the same age as Ciel. He was tall for his age, thin, large eyes and red cheeks, bitten by the cool wind outside. Beautiful, and innocent looking. Ciel had been far too shocked to answer his request outside, so he'd ushered him upstairs.

"_I want you to take my virginity."_

The skinny blonde hung his fine, woollen coat on the stand by the door and then clasped his hands expectantly before him. Ciel leaned against the foot of his unkempt bed, brushing his fingers over the fabric where he was abused the night previous.

"Finny…" He started.

"Ciel." The boy looked back at him excitedly, his mind made up. At least he was natively French, so he could communicate his stress more directly to him.

"Why do you want me to take your… _virginity_…?" Ciel mumbled the last word, like it was too sacred for him to even mutter. Finny let out a cute snort, and then quickly covered his face, hiding his nose.

"I'm sorry, it's just, do you even know what it's like out there?" Finny took a few steps closer to Ciel, who leaned back against his bed, knuckles white as he held the brass bars beneath his hands. The tall blonde was intimidating in his self-awareness. Ciel shook his head, breathing in perfume that most likely cost more than anything he ever owned.

"What do you mean?"

"For boys, _men_, like us." Finny still had a self-assured smile on his face, his clear skin without a single flaw. Ciel couldn't count a pore or scar, not even when they were so close. "Men that like other men."

_Oh_. Now Ciel understood.

Ciel, as far as he was aware, was the only male prostitute in a 50 mile radius. The city itself was plentiful with women whores, which left Ciel with a very particular clientele. Closet, homosexual men. By now Finny was so close to Ciel that he could feel his expensive breath hit his skin. He wasn't that much taller, but the dark-haired boy was slouched against the end of the bed, looking up into clear blue eyes. He really was gorgeous.

"I still can't be the first person you sleep with," Ciel uttered, looking only at Finny's fresh, virgin lips. He swallowed heavily, recalling his first time. It wasn't special, at all.

"Please," Finny begged, his mint breath touching Ciel's lips. "I can't do this anymore, please, it's so frustrating." The boy looked absolutely pitiful, and his slender, rich hands curled around Ciel's hips. Suddenly Finny's mouth was brushing against his cheek, his lips moving to embrace the edge of Ciel's pierced ears. Hot breath fanned out over his face, stealing gently under the edge of his eye patch. Finny's hand edged up Ciel's stomach, the heel of his palm pressing into the whore's ribcage. Ciel tried to imagine what it must be like to have never felt a man before, and he let his eye flutter shut as Finny begged once more, lowly, into his ear.

"I can't, it should be special, with someone that you love," whispered Ciel, shaking his head, trapped under the tall embrace of the blonde. His bed frame dug into the small of his back, he was tipped over, bent backwards and cradled by the surprising strength of the stringy customer. A sigh of disappointment tickled Ciel's ear, and he felt his stomach hook beneath his belly button.

"But I can do something else." _Damn, he really couldn't help himself. _Finny's excitement bubbled from the tips of his fingers, where he squeezed into Ciel's bruised hips, and released itself in a baited, pleasurable gasp. Without looking, Ciel could tell those stupid doe-like eyes were bright with excitement. A wet kiss was placed firmly to the side of his head, and Ciel stiffened, grabbing onto Finny's shoulders and holding him back like a scolded child.

"I just have one rule. I never kiss."

He swore he watched Finny's heart sink in the way his smile fell, so he quickly added.

"I never kiss on the _mouth_."

…

Ciel keeps his tea leaves in a tin on his kitchen counter. A small, ugly silver tin with rusted edges, with absolutely no tea inside. Such a luxury could not be afforded right now. So, this is why Ciel wasn't really bothered when the tin was flung across the room and rattled across the floor. The dark-haired boy's back hit the wall, his wrists pinned up beside his head. A hot pair of virgin lips dug into his throat with an intense hunger, biting down into the flesh over Ciel's jugular.

The whore cried out, digging his nails into the back of Finny's expensive silk shirt. The blonde's thin hips pushed down into Ciel's as he was pressed down onto the counter top, once again surprised by the strength in his newest client. Finny couldn't keep his hands off him, sliding his large palms up Ciel's stomach to remove his shirt one second, only to abandon that and grasp at the boy's firm thighs the next. A fork clattered to the ground as Ciel kicked, struggling to gain purchase on the bench top. His shirt trapped his arms, held above his head as Finny ravaged the junction between shoulder and throat, making the dark-haired whore buck up into waiting hips.

"Ciel," Finny groaned into Ciel's ear, thrusting a hand between the trapped prostitute's legs, roughly thumbing over the tented mass in Ciel's trousers. The blonde was so tall he kept one leg on the ground, the other kneeled on the edge of the counter, two hands wrapped around thin wrists.

"The bed," replied Ciel, chest rising and falling so fast he could not catch his breath. Finny released his wrists and took his knee off the counter, sliding back to release Ciel from beneath him. "Wait," the smaller muttered, sitting up to twist two fistfuls of blonde hair into his hands. Slamming his back down into the counter, he dragged his customer down with him, slamming his mouth onto the side of Finny's neck as if he were to kiss him. A muffled moan escaped his lips as he dragged his tongue across the salty Adam's apple of his John, squirming heatedly when Finny huffed loudly into his ear. The blonde's tongue dragged up against his earring and into the hollow of his ear, making Ciel's hair stand on end. The sound he made had him flushing with embarrassment.

"Bed, now," he hiccupped, looping his arms around broad shoulders as the skinny blonde dragged him from the counter. Long limbs tangled and ankles locked, and they stumbled backwards until Ciel's thighs hit the mattress, the pair falling back until they crashed against the lumpy bed. Ciel used all his weight to roll Finny to the side, climbing on top of him as his client's legs hung off the edge of the bed.

Twin gasps echoed in the bare room as Ciel seated himself on Finny's groin, sitting back against the heated firmness that strained against woollen pants. Finny's long fingers delved into the hem of Ciel's trousers, yanking them down so the fabric grazed down a few inches of the whore's ass. Too aroused to think, Finny abandoned his mission half way through in favour of slipping off his own pants, letting them gather around his pale thighs. The client's cock sat hard and impatient between Ciel's legs, the tip wet against the dark-haired boy's half clothed ass. Grunting with frustration, Ciel yanked the rest of his pants down, pressing himself flat to Finny's naked hips so he could feel his cock press fully on his own. The blonde beneath him made an unsteady, shaking moan.

"After you've gone out and found your _one true love_," Ciel muttered bitterly as he ground his own hips back into the stiffness below him, "and you've given them your virginity," Ciel whispered that part into Finny's ear, who was holding onto him tightly, guiding his hips as they rutted over his virgin cock, "then come back here, and fuck me, _ugh fuck_, I'll do it for free."

He couldn't believe the words coming out of his mouth but all of his blood had rushed to his pelvis and the blonde's hands felt so good on him that he didn't really mind. Ciel's head fell back to let his hair brush over his shoulder blades, stomach muscles taut and flat, and Finny leaned in to kiss Ciel's stomach. "You really are the most beautiful," Finny breathed, eyes almost rolling into the back of his expensive skull.

Before he forgot his no kissing and no fucking rule Ciel pulled back, opening his eye, and stared up at his cracked and dripping cleaning. Spots of mould had started to gather in the areas where rain collected above, leaving dark, straining patches on the roof. He could feel Finny's inexperienced hips shudder beneath him, and two desperate hands clinging, tugging at him to return. Ciel took a deep breath and looked down at the writhing blonde, ready to give him what he promised.

….

Ciel had never given a virgin a blow job.

Keeping Finny's hips still was enough of a challenge, let alone keeping control of himself. He sat on the floor, cold wood pressing into his knees, while Finny laid back on the bed, legs spread, feet on the floor, fingers of one hand wrapped tightly around Ciel's long hair, and then other tearing the bed sheets from the mattress. Finny was a virgin, but Ciel was very, _very_ experienced.

Ciel flattened his tongue against the base of Finny's cock, thick and turgid, but proportionate to the boy's long but broad physic. A cry clouded from the mouth of the blonde as Ciel slid his tongue from base to tip, swirling the muscle in his mouth around the wet end of his partner. He muffled a moan in his own mouth as Finny bucked upwards, keeping his head in place with his tight grip. Finny's cock slid past his panting lips and left a thick trail on the whore's upper lip. The two made eye contact, then Ciel lidded his eye, swiping his tongue over the wet mess. Finny didn't supress the surprised groan in his throat, but instead squeezed Ciel's hair tighter, pulling the muscles in the boy's throat taut.

Ciel huffed, mouth open, urging forward to slip his mouth around the end of Finny's cock, digging his fingers into the boy's flesh until it surged white. He was achingly hard between his own legs as he slipped down further onto his customer's flesh, his chin slick with saliva at the angle he was being held. Ciel held onto spread thighs as he was forcefully urged down further, making a deep sound as he felt Finny's cock squeeze into the back of his throat. The pain in his scalp only made him more determined to please, and he groaned against the thick flesh in his throat, causing his partner to arch and writhe from the mattress.

"Ciel!" Finny cried out, as if he were in pain, but only coaxing Ciel further down, circling his anxious hips up into the warm, welcoming cavern above. Finny cried his name again, a warning Ciel supposed, but the whore stayed put, lifting his sole eye to gaze at his tortured client. There were tears in Finny's eyes as his pale stomach rose and fell, and a silent scream on his rosy, open lips. And then it was over, eye contact broken as Finny lost his vision to a husky haze, his scream finally finding a way to emerge from his hips to his mouth.

Ciel made a muffled noise of his own, his eye squeezing shut as his mouth filled with Finny's virgin come. Although hopelessly and annoyingly still aroused, Ciel was overcome with the satisfaction of a job well done, and the relief of two hands releasing their grip on his pulled and tortured hair. The lax limbs fell to the bed and Ciel pulled back with a thick swallow, Finny's cock slipping from his mouth, leaving a trail of hot mess against his slick chin.

The blonde made soft sounds, skin covered in a gentle sheen of sweat, stomach trembling with his first _assisted _orgasm. He flinched as Ciel drug his tongue across his softening cock, cleaning him with delicate care, leaving soft kisses up and down the length. Another kiss to Finny's belly button, and another higher to where his lungs met in the middle. Finally a kiss to the hollow of Finny's throat before they made eye contact again, Ciel kneeling on hands and knees above a satisfied customer.

"How was that?" Ciel asked, already knowing the answer. Finny reached one trembling hand up and used it to cup the edge of Ciel's face, drawing him down to his mouth. Ciel stiffened, ready to pull back, but Finny's lips found their way to his chin instead.

The blonde's tongue drew gently across Ciel's chin, collecting his own come with curious licks. Ciel moaned softly and closed his eye, relaxing into the hand that supported his face. First the cleaning swipes of his tongue, and then a gentle kiss to the edges of his jaw, and then the mouth was gone. The dark-haired boy let out a deep breath and slowly opened his eye, only to see Finny back on the mattress, eyes closed, hand folded gently across his chest. He was asleep.

…..

The skin of Finny's back was as flawless as his face, stomach, arms and legs. Ciel's eyes roamed the open canvas of milky white skin, similar to his, except for the sheer perfection of it. Finny's back wasn't littered in tiny scars, bruises. It was free from all the hatred in the world, something that money could buy you.

Ciel's dark hair made a little halo around his head as he pushed his fringe back from his eyes. Parts of his scalp still felt sore from the intense pulling it'd received last night. After the pretty blonde had passed out, Ciel hadn't the heart to wake him up and ask him to leave. Collapsing beside the passed-out sleeping beauty's spent cock he'd pleasured himself to the memory of his client's touch, and then smoked a cigarette, before tucking Finny's legs under the bed sheets and crawling in beside him. In the moments before he'd fallen asleep he let himself stroke the smooth skin on the blonde's chest, run his fingers over the beating heart below them, across the muscles in his shoulders and biceps. When he woke, Finny was still there, something that had never happened before.

Now the boy was dressing, pulling his rumpled shirt onto his lovely skin. Ciel danced his fingers over the small of his back and he turned, grinning down at the whore with an enthusiasm not normally seen so early in the morning.

"Hey!" He said, cheerfully, scooting around to smile down at the boy below him.

"Hey," Ciel muttered, his throat sore. He twitched the corners of his mouth into a small smile.

"Last night, was amazing," Finny sighed happily, pushing his hair out of his eyes. Ciel rolled his eyes to the side and looked out his bedroom window, giving a small shrug.

"I know," he admitted, a small smirk on his face.

"How much do I owe you?" Finny had returned to sliding his sleeves over his thin arms, so Ciel sat up and balanced his chin on the blonde's shoulder. He muttered a balance into Finny's ear and then pulled back, pulling the sheet up to cover his bruised hips from the morning sun. He didn't charge the blonde as much as he should have, for staying the night, and he didn't mind. So he was pleasantly surprised when Finny handed him a little extra. Ciel shuffled the franc in his hand and went to say thank you- when he heard a knock on the downstairs door.

Finny went stiff beside him, eyes wide and terrified. "Who is that?" He hissed quickly to Ciel, who was listening quietly. A voice called out from below but he couldn't make out what it had said.

"I don't know," he said truthfully, "but get your clothes on." Finny made a small squeak, fumbling with the buttons of his expensive shirt. Ciel wrapped his arms around the boy from behind and assisted him with zipping up his trousers. That's when he heard footsteps from the hall.

"Ciel?"

It wasn't Finny who said his name this time. No, the voice was far too distinctive. Ciel breathed a small laugh out onto the shoulder of his John, who was still fumbling with his buttons. "It's alright," he said softly to the fretting blonde. "It's only Sebastian."

….

Sebastian cradled the folded sheets in one arm, balancing a hot loaf of bread wrapped in paper on top. The aroma from the freshly baked bread would make the sheets below warm and welcoming, a detail Sebastian had so thoughtfully considered.

Being in Ciel's neighbourhood was never particularly welcoming for a man of his profession, so he'd set off early to visit the young prostitute, as soon as mass had finished for the morning. He was still dressed in his black robes, white collar firmly around his throat. He knew Ciel was home as soon as he rounded the corner that put the boy's apartment in view. The window above was ajar, and yellowed curtains flitted out from the gap. Still, when he reached the door of the young male, he politely knocked. "Ciel, are you home?" He called.

No answer.

Sebastian rapped his knuckled against the unpolished wood again. Still no reply. The bread in Sebastian's arms was warm, and he did not want to waste it. So he wrapped his hand around the doorknob and gave it a twist. It was open, so in he went.

Sebastian didn't really consider it trespassing, especially when he still half believed Ciel was home. He was probably sleeping. Sebastian would fix that, it was sinful to sleep so late into the morning. Climbing the stairs Sebastian called out Ciel's name again, giving him one last chance to make himself appropriate for his arrival. There was still no answer, so when Sebastian reached the second entrance at the top of the stairs, he pushed the half-closed door open.

Ciel smirked as Sebastian and he made eye contact. The boy was half covered, his skinny, pale torso white in the sunlight, twisted against the back of another young boy. Sebastian's face heated up immediately. He opened his mouth to speak but no words came out. All he could feel was something akin to _anger_.

"Ciel," he finally managed, eyes going from the bemused look on the whore's face, to Ciel's latched hands looped around the shoulders of- of _Finnian Basille_!

"Finnian," he gritted out slowly, his fingers tightening around the loaf of bread so tightly he could feel the toast beginning to flake.

"Father Michaelis!" Finny gasped, tears springing up into his eyes. The poor thing was too stunned to move, so Ciel wove his grip tighter around him. Determined to see the poor priest mortified, Ciel nudged his nose into the blonde's cheek and spoke directly to Sebastian.

"Finny was just leaving," he flirted softly, squeezing his fingers into the still-virgin flesh beneath him. "Weren't you, _baby_?" And with that, he leaned in close to Finny's throat and opened his mouth wide over the boy's neck. Before his lips touched skin, his tongue swiped over the flesh below, lewdly, a little groan passing by his teeth. He finished the goodbye kiss with a loud smack to the flesh, his eye staring directly at Sebastian the entire time.

Unwinding his arms from the blonde's back, Finny was finally free to jump up from the mattress and hastily grab his coat. "I'm so sorry Father," he cried in French, looking between Sebastian and Ciel, who were engaged in an intense staring contest. Without looking away from the smirking whore Sebastian said in a low, gruff voice.

"I know your parents, Finnian. _Never come back here_."

Finny made a frightened mumble and hurriedly pushed past Sebastian, who refused to move an inch from the doorframe. His shoulders smacked into Sebastian's large, steady ones, but the loaf of bread he was carrying hit the ground with a thud.

Footsteps echoed throughout the quiet apartment as Finny hurried down the stairs like his life depended on it. The door was slammed as he escaped the building and fled down the streets, his steps disappearing into the thrum of everyday noise.

"Your French is getting good," Ciel said to Sebastian in his native tongue. His stare didn't falter. "You scared him." He gave a little laugh, but held the stare with Sebastian as he did. The priest didn't look happy, at all. His eyebrows were drawn down low and he looked desperately angry, his lips pulled thin into a grimace.

"What are you doing Ciel?" He said in English, slamming his bundle of sheets onto a small dresser by the door. His voice was loud, without shouting. Terrifying in a way that Ciel wished he _would_ yell. "Less than twenty-four hours since I found you here, beaten _and_-" he chokes "and raped, and you're already in the arms of someone else."

Ciel swallowed his smile, a pit of guilt opening up in his stomach. He noticed the bread, the sheets, Sebastian must have bought them here just for him. He opened his mouth to speak, but Sebastian raised his voice.

"You couldn't stay off the streets until your bruises faded, at least!" Sebastian was talking so fast that Ciel couldn't understand everything he was saying. "And with a boy like **Finnian Basille!**" Ciel bunched the sheets around his middle until they were covering his chest, moving forward on the bed so he could come closer to Sebastian. This only seemed to enrage him more, and he broke eye contact with the boy.

"You have no respect for yourself, Ciel!" His voice trembled as he yelled, but it still shook the prostitute to his core. "I'm ashamed of you, I- ". He stopped for a moment, swallowing, his neck bobbing under his tight collar. Ciel followed the movement, and then glanced back up at the priest's handsome face. It was dark red, strained, embarrassed.

"Ashamed of me?" Ciel repeated quietly, looking all over Sebastian's face but not getting so much as a glance in his direction. Sebastian shook his head and grabbed onto the doorframe, squeezing it so hard it creaked. He opened his mouth, and then closed it. He repeated the action twice more, like a fish out of water, but he could not think of anything else to say. The anger inside of him was not like a wrath he had ever felt before. It was different, more personal. Ciel hadn't betrayed him, so why did he feel like he had?

Before he could think any more about it, he turned quickly on his heel and left, robes billowing behind him.

…..

Ciel stood by the rippled glass window and watched as the priest left his apartment. All he could see were Sebastian's broad, black shoulders as he strode away, tense with anger. Ciel sighed, his stomach aching with guilt. With his hand on the glass, he could see the careful bandages Sebastian had wrapped around his wrists, even when he'd struggled and cursed. It was the nicest thing anyone had ever done for him, and how had he repaid him?

Ciel breathed out shakily, hanging his head until his long locks fell forward and curtained his face. He still had the bed sheets wrapped around his small body, attached to the bed as if he were a stained, ratty bride. This only made him feel worse about himself, so he dropped the sheets to the ground, and stood naked against the wall. His chest rose and fell slowly as he looked at his apartment, the mess he had made last night as Finny and he cleared the bench tops. That's when he was reminded of the bread, which sat packaged and abandoned by the door. Its aroma was faint in the room, despite being tossed to the ground.

"Oh Sebastian," hummed Ciel, snatching his trousers from the foot of the bed. Pulling them up and over his legs he approached the bread loaf and picked it up into his arms, holding it like a baby. He pressed the brown paper packaging to his nose and smelt the warm, fresh dough on the inside.

From there his eyes went to the folded sheets left on top of his dresser. Sebastian had left them there in his rage, so now Ciel went over to examine them, caressing the fabric between forefinger and thumb. One was thin, clean, stiff. Second-hand but obviously cared for. The second was coarse, but thick, knitted, obviously to keep him warm in his frigid apartment. Ciel's heart pounded in his chest and soon it was all he could hear. Something wet rolled down his cheek and he pushed his fist across his face. He didn't know he had been crying.

…

Ciel half walked-half ran along the back alleys that led him to Sebastian's cottage. The morning was warmer than most, which was for the best as he had left his coat at home. He was wearing a clean shirt, one that Sebastian had given him, buttoned to the top, with suspenders holding up his best, and only, pair of trousers. He'd even laced his shoes, determined to look as clean and respectable as possible.

Many people were on the streets, and Ciel could hear their hum as he walked briskly past open alleys. He'd pushed his hair off his face with a handful of water, the morning sun drying it into place, spare for a few strands that hung in front of his eye patch. He'd even applied the medicine to his eye before he left, making sure there was nothing Sebastian could yell at him for upon his arrival.

Ciel saw the steeple before he saw Sebastian's cottage, jutting up into the sky, demanding importance. Soon he was trotting quickly along the edge of the low fence that lead up to Sebastian's home, and hopping the gate into long grass that brushed his thighs. The yard was thankfully empty, but Ciel had hoped it would be. After mass was the time of day most holy men used to relax, and that was rarely at the church.

Hard weeds clicked at Ciel's boots as he kicked through them, stamping a path to Sebastian's front door. He bought up his fist and banged three times on the door, and then cried out Sebastian's name. "Sebastian!"

At first there was no answer.

"Sebastian! Open up! I know you're 'ere!" Ciel pounded at the door two more times, fuelled by the anger of being ignored. Still, no answer, more silence. He thought he would be able to hear Sebastian's giant body moving around in the small cottage but there was nothing. Snorting, Ciel raised his hand to pound at the door again, and it opened.

"Why are you here?" Sebastian's voice, normally so welcoming and forgiving, was low and husky. It matched his face, his eyes, slitted like he was displeased to see Ciel for the first time in their friendship. Sebastian grew irritated at Ciel's lack of answer and gripped the edge of the door, ready to close it in Ciel's face. Opening his mouth he began to ask him to leave, when Ciel suddenly blurted out an apology.

"I'm sorry," he said quickly, his thick accent making his admission unrecognizable. Sebastian felt the tension leave his body, but he kept his face strict. He was still shaken about the events that had happened that morning. His eyes went from Ciel's neatly laced boots, to his tucked shirt, sleeves rolled all the way to his wrists, and the effort he had obviously gone to make his hair neat. The trip over here had messed the boy's fine, grey hair out of place, and Sebastian's hand twitched by his side with the need to smooth it back into place.

Ciel was still staring at him, his one blue eye darting between both of Sebastian's. He swallowed a lump in his throat and looked over Ciel's shoulder, cheeks heating up a little again.

"Don't you have any _clients_ to see?" He asked bitterly, immediately feeling silly for his childish accusation. Of course Ciel had clients to see. It was his job. It was how he fed himself. He let the scowl fall from his face, a breath escaping his lips as he deflated.

Ciel's light, amused laughter flitted across the weed-plagued garden, and a smile broke out on his concerned face. Sebastian looked at him helplessly, confused.

"You're jealous!" Ciel cried, slapping his hand around Sebastian's bicep. "You're jealous of little Finny?" He exclaimed gleefully, his grin only widening when he saw Sebastian's mouth drop and eyebrows raise.

"_No!_ I'm **not**-"

"If you want to spend time with me, all you need do is ask, stupid!" Ciel rolled onto the balls of his feet, still gripping onto Sebastian's arm. The priest's expression gravened and he growled, wrapping his arm around Ciel's tiny wrist and pulling it forcefully away from him.

"I'm not jealous!" He hissed, grabbing onto the door frame, about to slam it in the prostitute's face. But a small, hard body breached the threshold of his home and flung itself around him. Ciel's pointy jaw dug into the skin against Sebastian's heart, and his small fingers curled into the edges of his stiff robes. Drawing his hands up, Ciel looped his thin arms around Sebastian's big shoulders, standing on tip-toe to reach that high. A gentle wrist rested against the edge of the priest's chin, and the slight scratch of his own bandages drew his attention to the wrapped flesh.

"I apologise," Ciel said again, taking a deep breath that Sebastian felt against his lower body. Ciel let his fingers selfishly graze along the perfectly straight, razored back of his black hair. Sebastian released a breath he didn't know he'd been holding, heart thudding loudly with the embrace of his first hug. He felt warm, but instead of anger, he was warm with comfort, happiness. Sebastian's stiff arms relaxed as he looked down into his companion's eye. With a rustling of thick fabric, Sebastian bought both his hands down and curled them nervously around Ciel's warm back. He squeezed gently with his fingers and sighed outwards, giving a little pat to the back of the younger's shirt. He couldn't stay upset with the only companion he'd made in this large and lonely city.

Ciel let out a lungful of morning air too, sinking into the small cavities between their chests. He rested his cheek against the clothes of a man he would never possess.

"I apologise too."

…..

**Pleeeeeeeeeaaassseeee review, I'm sorry for being a piece of shit.**


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